


the scent of sun

by trashemdudes



Series: out of the corner of your eye [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: AU where Roy and Lian moved to the countryside, Age Difference, Fluff, Guilt, M/M, alternating pov, hotel harper, that's all they do, there's a lot of talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-04-16 04:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14157078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashemdudes/pseuds/trashemdudes
Summary: Tim and Dick go out to Hotel Harper to try and figure out what they are together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely set during the time where Tim is fake dead (except this is a fic where he isn't and never will be fake dead). 
> 
> The story isn't really dependent on the comic book plots, but if it helps makes some unimportant details clearer, the setting/background is what would have happened if the transitions between all the relaunches were just continuations of the timeline, so their histories were never erased. 
> 
> Dick was Nightwing then Batman with Damian then back to Nightwing then Agent 37 and then back to Nightwing in Bludhaven. 
> 
> Tim still has his Robin stalker past, was Robin and worked with the Teen Titans, and has lost his dad and Kon and Steph and Bart and Bruce (and his spleen), though the middle four are back now. (Pretty much all of the new52 is ignored for Tim, so his story jumps from Bruce's return to Forever Evil with Dick's faked death and on.) Tim is Red Robin and his Teen Titans team is split up due to trauma/inertia after Kon and Bart's deaths and revivals.
> 
> For side/background characters:  
> Babs is still Oracle and works with the Birds of Prey.  
> Helena was Huntress and worked with Babs in BoP before being manipulated by Dr. Netz to join Spyral and is now back as Huntress.  
> Roy worked as Red Arrow as a member of the Justice League last, but pretty much Lian doesn't die, and that near loss of his daughter prompts him to retire and move away from superheroing. He does go back for a few short months at Dick's request to keep an eye on Jason, joining him as part of the Outlaws mainly because he has missed the action a little, but partially because he's a little curious about Jason's philosophy.  
> Lian stays with Ollie and Dinah during this time.

“Ready?” Dick asks, from behind. Tim turns from shoving in another electronic device that he swear he needs to see Dick wearing a fanny pack, duffel bag over his shoulder, and leaning against the doorframe.

Tim’s smile is slow and spreads increasingly wider when the fanny pack turns out to not be in his imagination. “Nice outfit.”

Dick looks himself over, finger trailing over the belt of the pack and looks back up, grinning, "Thanks.”

Tim rolls his eyes turning back. He knows Dick half wears it out of practicality, half just because he enjoys his own bad fashion sense. He finishes cramming the camera into the bag and is shoving down the flap to zip up the bag when Dick appears beside him, helping to push it down.

He tries really hard to not show that his heart nearly leapt out his mouth, and thinks he succeeds to a decent extent. Dick, at least, doesn’t show any sign of having noticed; he keeps his hands steady, breath against the nape of Tim’s neck.

Tim zips the bag up in the silence and when he looks up, Dick is staring down, lost in thought. Tim gives him the moment and heaves the bag over his shoulder, goes to his desk to pick up his laptop bag, puts the strap over his head and onto his shoulder, and then glances back at Dick who’s still lost in thought, still staring in the direction of Tim’s bathroom.

He goes over to the door, placing a hand on the doorframe as he leans back to ask, eyes trained on his figure, “You ok?” Tim wants to do more than say a few words, wants to lay his hands on the back of Dick’s neck and stroke the scarred skin there and give him all the time he needs. But Tim doesn’t try it, and that’s the great, fun part about being stuck in mutually acknowledged limbo. Everything’s tense.

Dick looks up and grins like he hadn’t been staring at air for several minutes. He lopes over to Tim’s side, sliding an arm around Tim’s shoulder to squeeze his arm. “I’m good, Timmy." He smiles, Tim twisting his head up to see it, and it always tugs at something in Tim's chest, tugs until Tim gives in and lets him in. 

"And - first to reach the car gets to pick the music!” Dick yells. He’s off running before he even finishes his sentence.

Cheater. Tim shakes his head, bemoaning the fact that Dick packs light and Tim has about a million things in case of emergency. The only reason he encourages this behavior by playing along anyway is because it makes Dick smile when he plays along, and Tim can't handle listening to the top twenty songs on repeat for the entire drive. Plus the irrelevent fact that he is a sore loser when it comes to competing with his family.

===

 

Alfred sends them off with packed lunches or really, Alfred _tries_ to send them off with packed lunches; in exchange for his effort, Tim and Dick try to get him to throw it over several yards to them, waving their arms out wildly, so they don’t have to stop in their race.  It doesn’t work. Alfred glares, and the two don’t stop, yelling the whole way until Dick, with his longer legs and earlier start slams into the car grinning. Tim slams into Dick as revenge, arms around his waist, cheek pressed against Dick’s warm, solid back. Dick’s laughing breathlessly, splayed over the car.

Tim breathes in Dick's scent, the fruity smell of his shampoo, and the bare strip of skin on his neck, faint with salt of sweat is right in front of Tim’s eyes. His body is hot to the touch, and the thin cotton of his shirt is worn soft.

Maybe his first thought shouldn’t be of sucking red marks into Dick’s tan skin.

Tim forces himself to say, “We should probably go back and get the lunches.” He rolls off Dick realizing he’s probably been clinging for too long and leans back against the car, still panting. But he won’t let those thoughts bring him down, not when he gets the whole weekend with Dick.

He glances to the side and Dick meets his eyes; he immediately feels more centered. He's making a lopsided smile before he knows it.

“And get yelled at,” Dick grins too even as he runs his hand through his hair with one hand and reaches in his pocket for the keys to unlock the trunk. He walks over the gravel to the trunk and dumps his bag, reaching out to take Tim’s laptop back and duffel bag for him without even thinking about it. Tim sometimes wonders if it’s Alfred who taught Dick to do that or if it was his parents. Maybe Dick had picked it up all by himself.

Dick turns, humming a little tune, offers a smile, and then closes the trunk, clapping Tim on the shoulder when he moves to go back to the house. Tim stares at his leaving figure for a moment before trailing after him, walking just fast enough so that when Dick reaches the front doors, Tim’s at his side.

They enter, both adopting the appropriate devastatingly ashamed expressions that they’re sure, along with enough over exaggerated begging and lavish compliments, will annoy Alfred enough to give in.  

 

===

 

Dick taps his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of some 80's pop song that Tim doesn’t know the name of. He’s sure he will after this weekend though.

The countryside has been whipping past them, all yellow-green forests smeared against pale blue skies. It's warm, with the wind being more refreshing than anything, the back windows open a crack and the wind whistling in. Tim’s comfortable in the seat of Dick’s Prius, the leather seat soft, as he slouches down, legs folded and knees pressed up against the dashboard.

He hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep the night before, and now he’s in this too awake but mellow, vaguely overthinking and distantly embarrassed phase where he's been thinking about Dick too much, and he's reached the inevitable thoughts. Ones once he started on hasn't been able to escape. He just wants to get his hands on Dick. He thinks about sliding his hands over the line of Dick's biceps or his shoulder blades down to his slim waist and hips. Holding him there, so he can kiss him to his heart's content.

“What’re you thinking about, Timbo?”

“Touching you,” Tim says after a moment’s hesitation. He turns to face Dick as he does, unable to keep from hoping to hear his words back. Dick glances at him through the corner of his eye and only laughs.

“Thought the weekend was for thinking about whether you should be touching me or not.”

“My teachers have always said I’m precocious,” Tim replies, tapping his fingers on his thigh. He flashes his teeth at Dick.

Dick snorts. It's low, and there's honest fondness in it that makes Tim's face grow warmer, his mind tangling in on itself on what he could say to hear it again.

“Well, hold your horses for now.”

Tim pushes instead. “Do you think about me that way too?” He glances over, and is careful enough to not show any sign of nervousness. Just tenses, holding still, before he remembers his lessons to relax his body. He doesn't want to set Dick's alarms off.

“...sometimes.”

“What’s with the ambiguous tone and wording?”

Dick smiles a little at Tim’s offended tone even as he turns the wheel again as they curve with the road around a shallow hill. “Changing the subject now.”

“I’m not a kid, Dick.”

“Didn’t say you were. I’m just not that comfortable talking about it.”

“Because?”

“I never am. I only talk about those kinds of things with someone I’m in a relationship with,” Dick says easily.

“Semantics.”

Dick turns his head to look at Tim full on. He grins, “Semantics? Tim, we’re spending the whole weekend and probably more on this because a relationship is a lot more than semantics.”

Tim narrows his eyes at him, crossing his arms as he thinks for a long moment. He chews on his lower lip for a long moment before reaching over for the thermos of coffee Alfred had made for them. He takes a long sip and puts it back into the cupholder.

“I still feel you’re circumventing answering the question because it’s me.”

Dick snickers. “Self-centered much?”

“Always." Tim pauses, eyeing Dick. He isn't really angry. It's hard to be angry at Dick when he rarely gets angry or even irritated with Tim. "Did you talk to any other partners about it before you got involved with them?"

Dick glances at Tim, obviously amused. "No, I didn't Tim. I'm not much of a talker during. More of a doer."

"Find that hard to believe," Tim shoots back.

"What," Dick replies, "that I don't dirty talk people I'm not dating or that I don't dirty talk people I am dating?" He's grinning a little, and Tim knows he's being made of fun now. Fair enough. Tim had pretty much set himself up.

"The second. And I didn't want you to dirty talk me. I just wanted to get a better idea. Like y'know, how often...how in depth, what kind..."

Dick breaks out into a full blown laugh. He shakes his head, stomach trembling as he shifts his grip on the wheel. "Why do I feel like I'm being baited?" Dick murmurs with amusement. He glances at Tim again from the corner of his eye, and Tim's waiting for it this time so that he gets to see the color of Dick's irises when the light hits them just a little bit longer. It makes Tim hold his breath for just a second. There's not much these days that can make Tim breathless, but still, the way Dick's eyes are bright, the warm tan of his skin, the way he carries an affectionate smile on his lips, the easy line of his body, and him in a worn thin T-shirt, and faded jeans, hair framing his face has never once stopped doing the trick.

He likes the feeling Dick exudes. The feeling it gives - has given Tim since he was a kid.

Tim shrugs, not sure what to say anymore after his too long silence from basking in his embarrassing, goofy crush.

"Yes, Tim. I think you're very attractive," Dick says. "If that helps."

He shoots Tim a glance.

Tim lets a weird mix of an unintelligible mumble grumble pass his lips as he eyes the older man. He sort of resents Dick for just putting that out so nonchalantly and out of nowhere.

Dick laughs. “Ok, good. Then now that your crisis is over, how about we have a little bit more serious talk.”

Tim rolls his eyes. _Crisis_.

He nods his head at Tim and says, “Pros.”

Tim pauses, knitting his brow, before realizing what Dick means. That was definitely out of nowhere, but he's willing to play along if it gets them to where he wants them to go.

And the fact is, Tim doesn’t even really have to think about it before he responds. “I’ve always admired you. Ever since I was a kid you’ve been what I’ve been chasing after. Striving for. I think you're the reason I wanted to be better. I - you know that buoy that we always see bobbing along by the docks?" Tim asks, leaning off his seat as he turns to Dick.

Dick nods.

"The feeling you give me is sort of like the movement of that buoy."

Tim leans back against the car door, pressing his cheekbone against the curved edge of it sloping down from the window. "...when I finally met you, you didn't do a single thing I wanted. But you were fair and you wanted to save people, and that was more than I could've asked for. And I wanted to earn your respect, my place as Robin. I never completely got over my crush because, because well, you always _made fun_ of me. You were there for me, consistently." Tim stares at the flickering trees they pass by as he adds, distractedly. "You make me feel safe.

Tim scrubs his hands through his hair, getting embarrassed. “Something inside me lights up when you’re around. I spent years obsessed with you, and then after that, I spent years loving you. It’s just easier with you. It’s...”

He’s feels splayed out, pinned down, and a part of him likes it because its by someone he trusts.

“I didn’t have anyone to go to when I was a kid. To trust. So that kind of thing’s important to me now. I like the way you treat me. I like the way you trust me. I like that I can go to you, and I like that I can rely on you.”

“You really feel that way?” Dick asks, eyes trained on the road, voice filled with a softness that wraps around Tim.

“Yeah, Dick," Tim replies, "I do.”

There's the hum of the engine and the tires against concrete before Dick's lips quirk and his voice is gentle, teasing, light. “Mm, ok, go on.”

“Why do I feel like you’re just doing this to fish for compliments?”

Dick snickers, “Too bad you caught on.” He turns and meets Tim’s one raised eyebrow and unimpressed expression before they both turn away again, stupid smiles on their faces. Tim has to bite down hard on his lip to keep everything from overflowing. He ends up smiling into his reflection anyway.

“Ok, now cons.”

“Hold up," Tim says, "shouldn't it be your turn to tell me how much you love me?"

“Oh, to the stars and back, Timmy.” Dick says with a flair, tone taking on a thespian gasp of emotion.

“D for effort, Dick. No hook or thesis. No specific examples. Just an ambiguous statement considering the distance of stars varies, and you didn’t set an origin point either now that I think about it.”

“D?” Dick asks insulted.

“D,” Tims says firmly.

“So just to get this straight,” Dick says, “I’m getting a D?” Tim knows where this is going. “Do you-"

“Nope. Nope, nope. No,” Tim replies, shutting Dick down who has his typical shit-eating grin on. Mainly because Tim doesn't need that picture in his head when he knows he isn't going to get to that point - well, possibly, ever.

Dick laughs, oblivious, and after a moment, says, “I like your tenacity and honesty. You have a strong sense of personal responsibility and independence but you’re willing to trust others too. Even when you aren’t willing, you recognize that and try to counteract it. You’re direct and are good at seeing things objectively and don’t mind telling others the hard truth. Your objectivity is especially a nice contrast from me, and I just think your company makes me better. You’re smart and kind, and most importantly, you’re fun to make fun of.”

“Har har har,” Tim shoot back, even if he can’t muster any bitterness in his tone.

“And I need a little more fun in my life.” It's said with fond certainty.

Tim thinks he’s finished when Dick adds, “Give me a sec,'m not done yet. Can’t let you one up me, short stuff.”

“One up me? _Short stuff_?” Tim is what? a inch or two shorter? He's still got growing to do, Dick, on the other hand, is way past puberty.

“Yeah,” Dick grins, “Let me see. I can tell you things. You don't act first; you actually consider it and put away your pre-conceived notions when you do. It makes you a better detective than me. Very hot, Timmy."

Tim shoots him a look.

"You remind me of why I do what I do. You remind me of good things. Of the fact that it's not I have to, but I want to, and that I'm glad, grateful I can." Dick taps the steering wheel rhythmically. "I get caught in my emotions more often than I'd like, and when I have done that while I was with you, you've never driven me wrong. Like I said. You make me better."

"No," Tim replies, "you said that you _think_ my company makes you better."

"Caught red handed," Dick says, glancing towards Tim and seeming to see right through him. "Okay, let me revise it. I _know_ for a _fact_ that you make me better."

Tim bites down on a smile when he says, "Good to hear."

Tim lets his head fall against the side the car, knocking his crown against the seatbelt holder. Something settles in his chest, and he rewinds Dick's words over and over again. He zeroes in on the intonation and soft breath placed into each word, runs his mind over how the vibrations at Dick's throats would've felt, the feel of Dick's lips forming each other. He rubs his fingers over the knuckles of his other hand.

“Okay, now cons?” Dick offers, breaking Tim's reverie. “If that’s acceptable to you, Mr. Dictator?”

“I'm pretty sure that's your name, Mr. Dick-tater-"

"-Funny-" Dick says.

"-but. You have my go ahead.” Tim tops it off with a jaunty gesture at Dick.

“Alright, glad you say so. It’s your turn.”

Tim squints his eyes at Dick before replying, “Since I went first last time, you have to go first this time.”

“True, but I also did just go," Dick replies.

"Yeah, but I went first last time," Tim shoots back. "And without any warning beforehand."

Dick's eyes seem to light up when he just turns to Tim and asks, unbearably confident, “Don’t think I can convince you?”

“I think you could convince me of anything if you wanted to, but if you even try, I swear I’m going to shove my fingers into my ears and scream the Chinese alphabet the whole way there.”

Dick licks his lips, making them redder, and grins. “Okay. Flip a coin for it.”

Tim gives him a look.

“C’mon. I know you have spare change on you or use an app or something.”

Tim scowls and reaches into his pocket, muttering, “At this rate, I’m going to use a two-headed silver coin.”

“Wow. Low blow, T.”

Tim fetches a dime out of his pocket, brushing lint off of it. “Head, you go first, Tails, me."

He flicks it up into the air and slaps it down onto the back of his left hand. Tim pulls his hand back to see the dime on tails.

“ _Seriously_?”

“Looks like it is your turn after all.” Smug. Childish. Tim's heart mutinously skips a beat.

Tim sighs, slipping the coin back into his pocket. He thumped his head back against the headrest, looking up at the ceiling of the car. “Ummm.”

“Go hard or go home.”

Tim shoots Dick a look.

“We do the same kind of work, so it’s likely that both of us might get caught up in the weight of what we do. We work in the same circles, so if we had a bad breakup, that might cause tensions... there’s the age difference so I know people will talk. We can’t be out about it in our civilian identities since we were both adopted by Bruce. I get a little - a lot biased when it comes to you... and even if it doesn’t mean I don’t see _you_ , arguably, I’ve still sort of put you up on a pedestal. It means sometimes I get upset when you don't understand how I'm feeling immediately, especially when you're usually do know. You also can get stubborn and blind when you think you're right....I guess when it comes down to it...” Tim trails off, the tips of his ears pink as he looked out the window.

There was only the same peppy beat playing in the car even as Dick waits for Tim.

“Dating you would be like dating Bruce too,” Tim finally says not thinking. He can’t really find a better, shorter way to say it though. It’s the culmination of his most dire worries about what a relationship between them would mean.

Dick turns to give a resentful expression. “Excuse me?”

“Not like you actually are Bruce, but dating you is like I have to date two people at once, the other being Bruce,” Tim says making a face, squinting at nothing. He doesn't know how to explain, but Bruce's existence is inextricable from who everything Dick is. You can't have Dick without having to address Bruce's existence. What the man means to Dick. 

“Okay, I'm gonna need you to explain that.” Dick sounds like he’s trying to be serious, but the incredulity has won over, and he almost sounds amused.

Because you're never to get past Bruce, Batman, Tim thinks, unless the man learns to get over himself first and that was never going to happen. Trickle down theory. Bruce leads to Dick, and if Dick and Tim start a relationship, then Dick leads to Tim. Hence.

“Because when people date, they deal with each other’s issues. And...to deal with your issues, someone, me, I mean, I would need to have a good understanding of Bruce’s and how to fix them and Bruce’s...are...I have a decent grasp, but also I’m not sure what goes on in his head in place of logic half the time. Probably breathed in too much smog, y'know. All that time spent with his head in the clouds and in outer space. Hah.”

His joke falls flat as Dick replies awkwardly, shifting his grip on the wheel. “I don’t...you don’t have to deal with my issues for me.” His knuckles have turned a paler shade.

“That’s how it works Dick. Because they’re always going to come up somehow.”

“You’ve been thinking a lot about this," Dick finally says.

Tim squints at  Dick disbelievingly. “You haven’t?”

“I have. But it’s been a more of a how we work now, then a how we would work kinda train of thought.”

“Oh? What about those two scenarios?” Tim says nonchalantly.

Dick glances at him through his peripheral view as he makes a turn, somehow making spinning a wheel look good, and it’s obvious it didn’t work.

“Dork,” Dick says. “How we work now... well it as more of a before thing, but I think we were good friends. Brothers, really. We made fun of each other, and might not have interacted as much as we could’ve, but we could still slide back naturally into a comfortable rhythm. Didn’t matter what happened, we still knew we cared about each other.” Dick pauses. “At least, I always hoped we both still knew that.”

It’s obvious he’s not talking about “we,” but Tim doesn’t respond. Dick gives him a moment to speak up, and when Tim doesn’t, he continues. “It was sort of...” Dick grins, “like we’d known each other for years... I actually really didn’t want to like you. You tried to drag me back to Bruce. But what can I say, Timmy? You’re irresistible.”

“And uh... the possible future?” Depending on how the vacation went. Because somehow they’d both come to a revelation because of fresh air and sunshine. Which wasn't really Tim’s jam. It could be, if Dick was there though. It would be, if Dick was there.

“I think... we’d see a lot more of each other, and it’d mean you can take me down a peg more often, which I probably need... “ As long as it’s not from Bruce is unspoken.

“And I can tell you to care a little bit more about yourself.”

“Um,” Tim protests. He can’t help the flush of warmth in his cheeks anyway, even if he disagrees.

“Though I promised myself I’d start doing that anyway, however this weekend ends up.” Dick turns on his right turn signal and turns his head slightly as he switches lanes. “How about Mondays, seven a.m.? I heard a stable pattern is good.”

“No.”

“Late enough that you’d be asleep, and when I woke you up, you’d be groggy. Early enough that you wouldn’t have had coffee yet, so your defenses would be down, and you’d be more susceptible to brainwashing,” Dick says, a curl to his lips.

“Are we almost there yet?” Tim asks.

“Subtle segue. And yes, just another turn down the road, and we’ll be at Hotel Harper.”

Tim hums in response and taps his fingers on the armrest before reaching out for the radio. Dick slaps his hand away, and Tim gives him an affronted look before remembering.

“Hey, you lost,” Dick reminds him pointedly.

Tim rolls his eyes.

“You’ve got to keep your word when it comes to electronics. How did you even survive in the Titans tower?”

“We fought. A lot.”

They turn down the road to reveal a suburban looking house in pastel colors sitting in a clearing of trees, a long driveway reaching out to the road. Tim can just see two small figures on the porch of the house, waving at them.

Dick rolls down the windows and gives them a big wave, a broad smile on his face. The tires of the car crunch on the dirt and gravel as Dick slows them to about ten miles an hour, finally stopping just in front of the house, turning off the ignition and getting out of the car to immediately be wrapped up in Roy’s thick arms.

Roy lifts Dick off the ground, swinging him around in a full circle before he drops him down again, a happy flush on both their cheeks, both laughing.

“Hey, Shortpants.”

“Hey, Harper. You still got that goatee, huh?”

Roy grins, touching his goatee before clapping his hands on Dick's shoulders as he gives Dick a suggestive once over. His eyes notably stop at Dick's hips. "Fanny pack?"

Dick glances down and then up as he smirks, snapping the elastic band. "Nice right?"

"You can make anything look good," Roy says before he throws an arms around Dick again, ruffling his hair. Dick takes it with dignity and grace, ducking his head and grappling with Roy's hands, looking gleeful. “It's too bad you didn’t keep your mullet though.” That’s when Roy spots Tim. He leans down to get a better look into the car, glancing back at Dick as he says loudly, “Forgot you were bringing the baby along-”

There's the slam of a door and then the rustling of grass as a little girl, Lian, Tim assumes, races down the steps and the grass- pigtails in the wind- to slam into Dick hard enough to make him lose his balance.

Dick laughs, grabbing Lian with an easy move to lift her up in his arms. There's a smile wide enough to break her face across her round cheeks. "Hi, Uncle Dick."

"Lian," Dick laughs, "It's been a while, huh, peanut?"

"You said you were going to come visit months ago."

Dick sighs, tossing her up in his arms a little. "Sorry, sorry, I got caught up in some work. But I'm here now. You have me all to yourself for two and a half days."

Lian makes a disgruntled noise even as she leans her cheek on his shoulder, patting his cheek. "I wanna show you my room."

"There's nothing I'd like more. Just give me a sec to get my bag and..." Dick says, backtracking to pop the trunk and grab his duffel. "...now I'm ready. Lead the way."

Dick passes Roy who slaps him lightly on the shoulder with a teasing grin. Dick turns back to lightly kick Roy on the shin before he jogs away with Lian. He glances back at Tim and grins, mouthing an apology. 

Roy turns from watching them disappear into the house to lean in to glance at Tim. 

“Well, c’mon Tim, get out of the car and get your welcoming from the Harpers.”

 

===

 

Tim hands a bag over to Roy's held out hand. Tim glances curiously at him out of the corner of his eye.

Roy offers Tim a smile. It’s not a mean smile, but there's a wolfish quality to it.

“Hey, Roy,” Tim says. He puts in effort to make himself sound agreeable.

“Hey, Tim,” Roy replies. He stares at Tim for a long moment. It occurs to Tim then that Dick might've told Roy why they were there. It would make sense to assume it even, considering there's absolutely no reason for Tim to be there. Tim hadn’t talked about Dick with anyone, but it might be different for Dick who had known Roy and the rest of the Titans for twice as long as Tim knew his friends. It doesn't mean they mean any less, but Kon and Bart can be a little... Cassie too...Cissie might’ve understood, but it’d been a while since he contacted her, and it felt unreasonable to lay all this on her after months of silence.

The likely possibility of Roy knowing is still a bit of a slap in the face.

Roy nods before clapping Tim on the shoulder, and when Tim flinches, Roy withdraws his hand. Roy makes an amused noise, “Dick's smoother about it than I am. You must be spoiled by him by now, having him as your big brother."

Tim’s eyes flicker to meet Roy’s. The man has on an unassuming grin.

He offers one in return. "Dick's good with people."

Tim flips through what he knows about Roy Harper and quickly concludes he doesn't know a lot about Roy. Dick talks about Victor and Wally more often, and while it's not like bringing up Roy is like bringing up Donna, Roy ends up being a touchy subject more often than not. Tim knows about the drugs and about the Outsiders, and Dick always speaks of having the greatest respect and admiration for his friends in the end, but there's something unspoken about their relationship that Tim can’t identify. Dick is more...vulnerable when Roy comes up.

"Yeah, he is," Tim replies with an easy smile.

Roy reaches for the final bags in the trunk, lifting them with ease. He isn’t what Tim had expected, especially since most of what he knows is from what he’d heard along the Teen Titan rumor vein. 

“Roy!” Dick yells from inside the house.

Roy flashes Tim a grin and winks, “Gotta go. Shortpants wants to order me around.”

Tim throws his duffel bag and backpack over his shoulder before he slams the trunk close and reaches into his pocket for the spare key to Dick's car, something warm and possessive blooming inside of him at the thought. He presses the beeper, listens for it and then goes inside the house, taking in a deep breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm re-editing some of this because I didn't like how I was writing Lian's character, so there're some incongruities for now.


	2. Chapter 2

Dick doesn’t get a foot into the house before Lian's dragged several remorseful apologies and a pinky swear that he'll come by more often. When she's still sulking a little, Dick swings her around and throws her up a few inches. She's not impressed by his efforts and only tells him to go faster, yanking at his hair.

Dick laughs at that. He's forgotten what a little adrenaline junkie she can be. She's taken after both her parents for that. He makes a reminder to himself to show her how to safely do some somersaults now that she’s older. For now, he stops before he breaks something in Roy's house and snickers at the frown she blatantly shows him, placating her with a press of a kiss to her forehead.

She’s gotten bigger. A bit bulkier too. The countryside must be doing her good. Both her and Roy have gotten tanner with more practical muscle spread out evenly. Dick thinks they both seem more mature since the last time he’s seen them. Something more contained and poised underlying their demeanors. It could be the solitude, he reasons. The quiet leads to a little too much time to think.

“Uncle Dick,” Lian says, well balanced in his arms, breaking through his thoughts as he inspects the parts of the house in his view. She leans her cheek on his shoulder, staring at him. DIck holds back a snicker. She's used to being carried around, Dick muses. After all the nannies and aunts and uncles she's gone through who's first instinct is to just pick her up like a couple of grapes to keep her out of danger. 

“Hmm?” Dick hums.

"Where're my presents?"

"Presents?" Dick raises his eyebrows comically. He glances around as if confused. "I'm the present, Lian. I'm not good enough for you, Peanut?"

She gives a sort of flat look and cuts right through his joking with a serious, "Did you bring me any stuffed animals?”

“Ouch,” Dick jokes, shifting her to one arm. “I’m wounded. Is that all you care about?”

“No,” she sulks. “But. I heard Daddy talking to you on the phone..." The drought of new stuffed animals must really be serious. Roy had mentioned putting his foot down on any new purchases.

“Yeah, yeah I did.” Dick chuckles. “It’s actually in Tim’s bags though. I'll get it to you in due time though.” Dick glances back out the door to see Roy clapping a hand on Tim’s shoulder, invading his space in both a friendly and purposefully obnoxious way.

Dick’s smile turns on a few watts brighter since he knows Lian’s watching him, soft bangs tickling his jaw.

“Roy!” Dick yells, pushing as much force as he can into his voice before turning back to Lian. He waits to see Roy’s faint flinch at the volume of his voice before he bends down to set her on the floor, moving into the house. “Care to give me the grand tour, kiddo?”

Lian turns from squinting at Tim’s luggage in the distance to giving him a serious look, assessing him. It's probably a grave scrutinization for her, but all Dick can feel is the fondness bubbling up. He has to resist from ruffing her hair or picking her up again to squeeze her tight. She's honestly adorable, and Dick has missed having a kid as cute as her in his life. He has a joke about Damian in regards to that and saves it for Tim later. He knows he'll enjoy it.

“Ok," Lian decides, drawing his attention back. "But you’re not allowed in my room.” Pause. She turns her big eyes on him. “How long are you staying, Uncle Dick?”

Dick can't help the way his expression softens as he replies, "Just for the weekend." He brushes his fingertips over her hair before saying, voice tinged with utter devastation, "Why? What'd I do to get banned from your room?"

"If Daddy gets to block me from his when he wants to, I should get to too. It's my room. So only some people are allowed inside sometimes."

Dick gets the feeling she's just abusing her power now that she has more people to use it on. He can't hide his own smile at the thought. "Fair's fair."

She beams at that, eyes lighting at the thought of someone being on her side. She tugs at his hand and trots up the stairs with practiced familiarity.

“Plus Daddy always complains about my room being messy. So I told him not to look at it then if it makes him upset, but then he got mad and we fought. Now I just close my door.”

“Oh?” Dick says, “When did this happen?”

“Mm,” Lian says, “Yesterday.” They reach the stairwell, and she adds, “so it’s good that you’re here to distract him. Plus Daddy’s been mopey which is why he got mad so easily that I didn’t clean my room. You make him happier.”

Dick blinks in surprise before his expression softens.

“Do I,” Dick says.

Lian hums, “Yup.” She spins around before saying, “Welcome to Hotel Harper,” a little curl to her lips, round cheeks beaming, arms spread out in gesture to the second floor.

Dick laughs and squeezes her shoulder as he passes her by to take a look at the floor. Six doors. One of them probably a bathroom, and the other a closet looking at the placement. The house is pretty big, if slightly worn down. He’d heard from Wally that Roy had gotten it for real cheap and then had spent a couple months fixing it up before surprising Lian with it.

If remembers right, Roy had mentioned the ridiculous amount of fixing up it'd needed briefly to Dick when Dick had needed someone with long range abilities for a mission, but Dick hadn’t been paying much attention at the time. It's always too easy to get caught up in work. It’d been difficult to pull away from his cases even for this weekend. It’d only been the fact that Bruce was back with Duke by his side and Damian taking care of Bludhaven for the weekend that he’d managed to be assuaged. Even now, he's sort of antsy.

Lian goes towards one of the doors that’s painted pink with baby pink gauzy trimmings decorating a name plate. Lian’s, Dick notes.

“This is my room.” Lian says. She trots over to the next door. “This is my play room and Daddy’s workout room.” The next door, “And this is yours and you boyfriend’s room. The one down there is Daddy’s. And that’s the bathroom. This one is a closet,” Lian says, going over to open the door.

Dick peeks inside to find toiletry and a mish mash of cleaning supplies.

When he ducks back out, Lian closes the door and Dick takes the chance to ask, “My boyfriend?”

“Yeah. The boy you came with today. Daddy said his name was Jimothy?”

“Tim," Dick corrects. Roy and his dumb dad jokes. "His name’s Tim. Roy said he’s my boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Lian replies. “Are you guys going to get married soon? I want to be a flower girl and then I’d get to buy a new dress too.”

Dick laughs lightly, “Um. No. We’re not at that point yet, no. We’re trying to figure that actually.”

“Does he not like you back?”

Dick blinks a little dumbfounded, “No. Uh,” Dick stops in his tracks.

He glances away from her expectant expression, frowning.

It hadn’t even been a consideration with Tim. Or really it was that Tim had admitted his interest albeit a bit reluctantly and angrily a few weeks ago so Dick was pretty certain Tim _liked_ him, but as far as everything else...

Dick has always been good at reading people. He knows whether a person likes his company or not, and while other doubts might get in the way, he’s generally on point. That’s never been a issue with Tim though.

Tim likes him. He admires him.

It’d always sort of been a guarantee that Tim would care for him, being the way he was, as careful and sincere as he is.

Even after Spyral, Dick had trusted Tim would forgive him, and then, after that, when Tim had, and when Dick’d soon been caught up with Wally and Raptor, Dick hadn’t had time to think about it.

Staring down at Lian’s wide eyes, Dick certainly has time to think about that now.

Lian’s eyes suddenly flicker to the side.

That and the creak of floorboards is all the warning Dick gets before a wiry arm is sliding around Dick’s shoulder. The scent of minty shampoo and wood oil. “What’s up, Shortpants? Corrupting my kid with your bougie nonsense?”

“Roy,” Dick turns his head back and tilts it to get a better view of Roy’s expression. He side eyes the red head. Like Roy wasn't the ward of a billionaire too.

Roy waggles his eyebrows, face an over exaggerated comical caricature. Dick has to bite back a laugh.

“So, Dickie. What’d you need?” Roy’s tone’s suggestive.

“Just wanted to know the house rules. Where to put my stuff,” Dick says smoothly.

“No lying. No hitting. No biting. No stealing,” Lian jumps in. “If you're gonna fight, it'd better be with a bow and arrow. Anything else goes.”

Roy only gestures at Lian. “My kid knows all.”

Dick hums. “By the way, where’d you ditch Tim?”

“Told him to bring in some wood since he’s invading my house and all.”

“Roy.”

“Kidding. Relax. I just sent him to the downstairs guestroom.”

“...Roy...”

“Hey look here, I don’t want any hanky panky going on here, alright? If you guys want to talk about your feelings in my house, feel free, but otherwise, keep it in your scaly panties.”

Roy rubs Dick’s pec in a obnoxious attempt at a soothing manner before he pats Dick’s chest and unwinds himself.

Dick sighs, rubbing his face. “We wouldn’t- I-” He closes his mouth. God, he was going to get a headache and it was only ten minutes in. He forgot how much Roy could be sometimes. He forgot how blunt and insistent and familiar and comforting Roy’s affection was. They had always gotten into fights more often than the rest of them, Roy unwilling to take Dick's advice in the Titans. He'd taken everything as an insult to his pride instead.

Dick turns to Lian and says, “Heard that? Means you can go ambush Tim for your presents.”

Her squeal of delight is left in the dust as she stomps down the stair, two at a time.

Roy raises an eyebrow, watching her go. "Tell me you didn’t get her more stuffed animals.”

“I didn’t get her more stuffed animals,” Dick say grinning as he watches her disppear around the corner.

He looks Dick over, giving a resigned, “Liar,” in return. Then, “You look serious.”

“Don’t make Tim feel unwelcome,” Dick says. He wants to nip it in the bud in case. 

Roy raises both eyebrows now. “You think I’m bullying the kid?”

“Yeah. A little,” Dick replies defensively anyway. “I saw you out there with him.”

Roy stares at Dick, his face blank. He breaks out into a large grin, shaking his head. “Oh c’mon, Boy Wonder. Someone’s gotta be the disapproving dad for him to quake in his boots at, considering he quote unquote lies to Batman. Someone’s gotta protect your virtue.” He looks Dick over carefully before he shakes his head disapprovingly again as he turns and climbs down the stairs, yelling. “Hey, Timmy, did you bring me any presents?”

“Wait-,” Dick says, “Roy!”

He watches Roy completely ignore him as he hops over the railing, racing over to the guest bedroom.

Dick watches him go, resigned. He shakes his head and turns around, shifting his duffel bag strap on his shoulder. He'll go unpack then.

 

===

 

Dick glances at the text alert on his phone. It's from Huntress, asking if has knows anything about a sewer cult in the Bludhaven area. He frowns at the phone, trying to recall the list of tips he’d gotten from the Bludhaven police. Nothing fits the bill. He hasn’t written any notes down after patrol that he can recall that would match it either, except he had heard Barbara say something about Killer Croc appearing more often out of the sewers, seemingly disgruntled.

> _Text Babs_

Dick sends back, and almost immediately, he gets a reply.

> _...got it._

Dick snorts.

> _She’s forgiven me a million and one times for stupid stuff I’ve done. Trust me, Spyral is something she can deal with. Even if it wasn't, she’s a professional._

A sharp ding almost immediately after.

> _I don’t appreciate your patronization, Grayson._

It's like she's been talking to Damian. _Patronization._

> _I’m not. Babs and Dinah have always thought the world of you. Whatever fight you guys had, they missed you as much as you missed them. They both know the Birds of Prey was better with you, Helena._

Dick waits a few more minutes after he sees that his message has been read.

Helena’s always been one to reply immediately or not at all - occasionally several days later with a petty one word response - but he still leaves it on on his bedside table before going to unzip his duffel bag, pulling out the basics for hygiene and his pajamas. He lays them out and stores the rest of the stuff in the bathroom across the hall, listening in on the quiet sounds of talking coming from downstairs. A faint smile creeps on his face at that. He'd never really liked living at the manor. Quiet, stuffy, and filled with things it was better for Dick not to touch and risk breaking.

There's a thud from downstairs, and Dick's curiosity is piqued. He lingers at the stairs for a moment before turning heel and going back to his room. It'd been unfair to bring Tim to Roy's place. Tim didn't know Roy and Lian like Dick did and there was a chance of him feeling left out. It'd be better if he gave him a chance to work out a balance with the two of them.

He goes back to check his phone, and when he see Helena still hasn’t replied, he hesitates and it's almost a little painful before he adds _going offgrid for the weekend. Good luck, Bertinelli_ before he presses down on the power and holds it. When the screen's black, he tucks it into the side pocket of his duffel bag.

He unbuckles his fanny pack too, managing a faint grin as he traces the little Batman symbol on the belt. He puts it in the duffel bag too. It'll come into use if they go hiking or exploring in the woods another day.

With that done, Dick puts his clothes into the drawers  and sits down on the queen bed, bouncing a little. With a grin, he bounces up again, and then does a back flip to land in the perfect position for him to settle back into the cluster of pillows. God, that’s nice.

He doesn’t like spending Bruce’s money, and he’s not sure he could afford these kinds of pillows or pillow cases on his own paycheck doing part time personal training, but he’s definitely considering it now.

Dick closes his eyes, folding his hands over his stomach.

Tim'll come up looking for him eventually. Or Roy. Or Lian.

Part of him - most of him wants it to be Tim.

Dick's fingers twitch on the sheets.

He knows it’s already too late for him to go back.

His perception of Tim’s already transforming.

The fact is, one of Dick's problems is that his sees Tim as right inbetween a kid and an adult. Tim’s right there, flickering inbetween with each move and expression.

It wouldn't bother him so much if Dick hadn't shoved Tim into Red Robin because he had needed him to be grown up. Tim is mature and has always been capable of choosing for himself. He'd fallen into their world and quickly become someone who could stand toe to toe with them and lecture all of them for being idiots. Still, Dick hesitates when he remembers how he’d been scrambling when Bruce had died and had too easily dismissed the thought that Tim might not be ready. Dick had been ready when he was that age. He’d been ready to be an adult the second he’d stepped into the pixie boots. Well. Not ready. Just wanting to.

Dick had been wrong, should’ve known that even at seventeen when he’d thought he’d been adult enough, he hadn’t been. And then he’d been thankful for Kori, Alfred, Clark and everyone else who at the very least, had a better grasp on his emotions than him. Tim hadn’t been grown up, and Dick regrets that he hadn’t given Tim a better chance, but Tim’s still...still hardy, still wry smiles, still eye rolls, still sly laughter that turns goofy as an eventuality, and rational intelligence.

Dick chuckles humorlessly but fondly at the thought.

If Tim wanted, he could probably play Dick like a fiddle.

Instead, he trusts Dick unconditionally. He wants to please him.

Dick sighs, running his hands through his hair.

He misses when things were simpler. When he could reassure Tim and have some measure of confidence that he had been successful. When he didn't have a blockage of words he wants to say to Tim in an attempt to make up for the slow realization that he hadn't treated him better.

Dick really misses when he'd thought less too. When he didn't twist actions around with paranoia comparable to Bruce's. Spyral really hadn't done him any favors. Let alone the unspoken fact that the hurt was clear on Tim's face every time the topic was broached.

There's a knock on the door.

Dick shoots his head up. “Come in.”

Tim peeks his head in through the door. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You know this is your room too. Whatever Roy says.” He offers a smile.

Tim nods jerkily even as he opens the door further to come into the room. He closes the door with a conscientiousness that’s obvious even before he walks towards Dick and sits gingerly beside him.

Dick waits.

“So, uh,” Tim starts, “Lian and Roy got their presents. Lian seemed pretty delighted with the stuffed penguin and the grappling gun. Roy seemed...concerned about the grappling gun, but he did like the copies of Alfred's recipes that you got him. Seemed a bit jarred at exactly how detailed they were though."

"Yeah?" Dick says. "Good to hear." Dick moves from his spot in the center of the bed to go to Tim's side. He nudges him gently when his feet settle on the floor.

"...how is...this going to work?” Tim asks, uncertainty coming off him like a wave.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Tim says sounding patient if distracted. “Wait, sorry. Roy actually invited us for some board games, if you want."

"Yeah, sure," Dick replies. He doesn't move.

Tim glances at him, expression hopeful. "I meant to say that coming to the countryside isn’t just going to solve things for us. The change in location might be good to help us put things in perspective, but otherwise, well. I know it's stupid to say this after we came all this way.”

“I think what we did in the car was good,” Dick offers.

“Yeah, but,” Tim frowns, furrowing his brow, “that didn’t solve anything. I mean. I...I’m in love with you Dick, I know that. For sure. I know why you're being careful, and I agree that setting boundaries and communicating before getting into a relationship is good, but you being here, is this you figuring out how you feel about me or how our relationship would work?”

Tim's always been good at hitting the nail on the head.

"I like you. Not _just_ like, but -," Dick says. "But that's...I don't want this to be some one month or even just a half an year thing. I'm not talking about or thinking about forever, but I just want to make sure that whatever happens between us is going to end up being something good for both of us. And that it hopefully leaves us on good terms whatever our relationship in the future."

Dick quirks a wry smile, "So yeah, if it helps, I have a big, stupid crush on you too." This is the second time today he's said something like this - third if he counts the words ten seconds ago -, and as much as it's true, he knows it's not really solving anything. But Dick thinks it might be okay considering the fact that Tim’s smile is wide enough to split his face in half.

“Who said my crush on you was big or stupid?”

Dick snorts, bumping his shoulder. “What is it then?”

“Epic? Badass? Hella dope? Of tha hizzy?”’

Dick shoves Tim, laughing. “Okay, you can stop now-”

"Grayson!"

Dick snaps his head towards the direction of the stairs.

"Stop making out with your boyfriend so Lian and I can whoop your butts at cards games."

Dick raises his eyebrows, meeting Tim's eyes. His blue eyes are light, and he seems a little less agitated than before.

"Guess we gotta go get our butts whooped."

Tim gives a little resigned shrug. A small quirk to his lips that makes Dick's heart skip a beat. "Guess we gotta."

Dick scoots himself off the bed and his arm brushes against Tim's as he stands. He moves a little closer while they're walking so it happens every so often.

Tim races him down the stairs, and they break a railing trying to sabotage each other.

===

"It's just anticipating behaviors and counting cards," Tim points out forcefully, gesturing at the mess of cards laid out in front of all of them. Dick bites on his lip, trying not to laugh at the devastation Tim had wrecked mercilessly on the Harpers.

Roy throws his cards down, groaning and recieving a yell from Lian in return.

"We can see your cards!" She yells.

"Well, apparently nerd one and nerd two don't need to see them. They have everyone's hands memorized." Roy gestures at them forcefully.

Dick put his own hand down. "It’s second nature at this point now. Plus. It's not a lot of trouble to memorize 52 cards."

"Yeah, thanks, I know, but this is a game and games are supposed to be _fun_."

Dick rolls his eyes, elbowing Roy. "How about we teach Lian how to count cards?"

Roy shoots him a look, and said, "Look here, my daughter's not going to learn how to count cards. She's not going to be stupid enough to step into a casino unless she owns it."

Dick shrugs off his tone as Tim, and Lian gathers all the cards together to shuffle. Tim reaches over for a rogue card and his ankle knocks into Dick's. He startles, eyes going towards Dick, before glancing back down at the cards and acknowledging Lian's complaints.

"She should still learn the tricks, Roy," Dick said wryly. He's tempted to knock his ankle back into Tim's. He does. When he gets a hard kick back, he only presses his ankle back in return.

"Okay, Dick, no. NO footsie with Tim under the table, and no footsie with me under the table either."

Tim turns to raise an eyebrow at Dick in the middle of dealing the cards.

Crap.

"Smooth, Shortpants."

"Tim's not gonna wanna smooch you if you're like this, Uncle Dick," Lian states with a snicker directed at Dick. 

He raises his eyebrows at the sudden, higher-stakes-change in subject.

"Yikes. Okay, sorry, sorry," Dick says, hand held up in defeat. "No need to gang up on me. And by the way, I’m very smoochable."

Roy snorts, elbowing Dick. "No one's ganging up on you. Not our fault you're just an embarrassment, Mr. smoochable."

Dick rolls his eyes and takes the hand Tim offers, meeting his eyes. He offers wry grin in apology, and Tim gives a shrug and his own wry grin back. Then the next game starts before they quickly devolve into an argument about the rules and the implications.

While Dick is shooting down Roy's completely bad and wrong arguments, Dick notices Lian is flickering her cards, bored. Tim seems to notice too, since he pauses to disappear with only the scrape of a chair leg against the tile.

"-but it would be more fair if we-"

Tim reappears with something in hand that he offers to Lian.

“You have a tamagotchi?” Lian yells and its obvious she’s brimming in excitement. She grabs at it with both hands.

Roy pauses in his pontificating, giving Dick the chance to lean over to whisper in Tim’s ear,  “Bit obssessed with your gadgets don’t you think?”

Tim rolls his eyes at Dick as they both lean in to look at the old toy.

"I brought it by accident. It was with my gaming stuff. I only noticed after I got here,” Tim says, watching Lian’s eyes light up.

They both jump in the middle of their inspection, Lian oohing and aahing, when they hear Roy say, "It's already nine? Jesus, this day went by fast."

“Okay, up we go,” Roy says, lifting Lian up by her armpits. “Bath time for the little germhouse we have here.”

Lian kicks her legs in the air before Roy puts her on the ground, putting his hand around hers.

"I can take a bath myself."

"I know," Roy says. "But if I don't stand out there, you might just sit on the toilet and play with your new tamagotchi for ten minutes instead of getting in the bath." Roy pauses. "Its okay if she keeps it for tonight?"

"Yeah, she can keep it as long as she wants it," Tim says. Roy gives him a smile in return before turning down to her. "Your manners, Lian."

"Thank you, Tim, and _no_ ," Lian adds defensively. "I wouldn't."

"Yeah, yeah, sure, I believe you," Roy says as he ruffles her hair, herding her up the stairs. "Can't be stinky for our guests, can we?"

Lian doesn't reply. She just hunches her shoulders in an act of defiance as Roy moves forward. Roy pauses, a hand on the door frame,  to call back, "Make sure to clean up, Dick. You remember how I run my kitchen?"

Roy runs a pretty tight ship when he has the time. Dick nods, offering, "Table wiped down, dishes washed, chairs pushed in, and kitchen light kept on." Preferably a few mugs left on the drying rack in case Lian got thirsty too.

Roy nods in return before he returns to corralling Lian up the stairs and into her room for her pajamas.

Dick turns back to Tim who's reading through the game manual again. Dick bites back a laugh, moving to gather up the scattered game pieces. After a while, Tim joins him, and Tim's movement hits Dick like a truck for some reason.

It makes him pause. 

Without Lian and Roy there anymore, his awareness of Tim feels sharper. Starker. Dick glances up at Tim, eyes lingering for a moment before he draws them back down, and even then, there’s this bright Tim shaped spot in his proprioception that tugs at him. It makes him feel a little off balance.

Which should be normal, Dick reminds himself wryly. He knows he has a crush on Tim, has told the man himself, but it's still... odd and new and nice the way Tim's presence sets off a little flutter in his stomach.

When Dick finishes returning the cards to their box in silence with Tim, Tim states, “Roy and Lian seem really happy to see you.”

“Yeah?” Dick replies, tucking the lid into the box. “It’s been a long while. I used to see them at least once a month when they lived in the city. Babysat Lian pretty often, especially in the beginning.”

"Not Irey and Jay or Jon?"

Dick shrugs. "It's different with Roy, I guess. He's not married, so he had twice the work cut out for him. I offered it up in the first place too." He glances at Tim to check his response.

Tim's eyes are narrowed. He's thinking. 

"Guess none of your friends have had kids yet."

"What?" Tim snaps his head back towards Dick, expression nearly aghast. "I mean like I'm nineteen. They're nineteen."

"Roy had Lian around that age," Dick points out.

"Yeah..." Tim trails off.

"Don't freak," Dick snickers. "I just meant that it's an interesting experience seeing your friends settle into parental roles. Though..." Dick has been setting this up for the last couple lines. "Considering Young Justice considered you their mom friend..."

"Dick..." Tim whines.

"Your friends must already know what that's like."

"Har de har dar."

Dick shrugs, feeling pleased with himself.

"You guys seem really close," Tim notes after a pause.

"Well, yeah. We grew up together, saved each others' lives. Plus, Roy had the worst sleep schedule next to me," Dick says a little distractedly. "It wasn't often, and I usually ended up spending most of my time with Wally since he could be there in a few seconds, but Roy and I had more than a few late night talks."

"In the Titans or the Outsiders?"

"...both. But to be honest, we weren’t _that_ close. We were less familiar in the Titans, and in the Outsiders, I got short with him more often than not. In the end it’s just that we’ve known each other for a long time, and have always tried to be there if we could. Donna...Donna tied us together too."

Tim gives Dick a moment, staying silent before he asks, "Do you miss being part of team?" as he fiddles with the mug of now cold tea he'd been given by an enthusiastic Lian. He doesn’t meet Dick’s eyes. Dick isn't sure if Tim's asking about teams or about whether he regrets the way they'd fallen apart. He knows Tim's team had a similar dissolution. It's what happens when there's too much history and death and blame.

"...I mean, sometimes." Dick pauses. "I think it's good a good breather to switch around though. Working with Tiger and Helena was..." Tim doesn't get as quiet and still as usual so Dick continues, tongue feeling looser then usual. "...was nice, but I don’t think we considered each other part of a team. ... but to answer your question, I don't think I do." Dick considers. "There's a lot of moving parts and clashing wills in a team. There's a lot...you have to do a lot to try to make sure you don't end up losing someone... In the end, I don't think I'm the type to handle it well. Do you?"

"Not...yeah. I do. I mean I like working solo, but a lot of my best memories are with Conner and Bart and Cassie and everyone." Tim traces the rim of his mug.

"You should try building another one."

Tim snorts. "Damian'd just make a comment about how I'm copying him now."

Dick shrugs. "You could try making a team less out of the public eye. I think you'd lead them well. Guess... the part about a team being good really only depends on the people in it though."

"Yeah..." Tim says a little distractedly. Dick thinks Tim might be happier if he was part of a team again. Then Tim's stomach gurgles. He hadn't eaten much when they'd taken a break from board game to eat dinner.

"What snacks do you think he has?" Dick stands up, noting Tim's faint embarrassment, and goes for the nearest cabinet, finding a shelf full of cartoon mugs. He blinks.

"Should you-"

Dick flashes a smile back at Tim as he goes for another cabinet. "It's fine. Titans' rules. All sustenance owned by any Titan now and until death are free game."

"You're joking."

"Nah. It actually got pretty bad." He goes through all the cabinets, noting where everything is until he finds the snacks. It's one of the higher ones. Probably a prevention tactic by Roy for one Lian. "We were fighting over it all the time, and none of us could agree on how to settle it fairly. We figured a free for all would just shut everyone up."

Tim snorts.

Dick shrugs, pulling out a box of sugar cookies and then shaking it. "It's a dog-eat-dog world."

He put the box back, deciding he doesn't want something that sweet. He eyes the cheetos and then his eyes find the red box in the back of chocolate pocky. He reaches for it and then tilts it to tug a pack out.

"Pocky," Tim observes when Dick turns around, his prize wielded between his lips. He looks at Dick, specifically his lips.

Dick knows what kind of smile he has on himself, and he can't help it. He'd spent too much time messing around as a teen to take any sort of thought of a kissing game seriously. He waggles his eyebrows at Tim.

"Want one?" Dick offers, tapping the one held between his lips.

Tim pins him down with a little frown.

"How come you can make a joke about kissing me when you take the rest of this so frustratingly seriously?"

Dick pulls his own eyes away from Tim's lips.

"I'm taking this seriously but I can't help making fun of you?" Dick tries, squashing down the guilt he feels at Tim’s tone.

Tim gets up out of his chair, eyes intense on him, an attempt to pin him down, and Dick's chest starts beating faster even if he's learned not to show it, and then Tim - smacks Dick on the chest.

Dick has to bite back a smile. He offers another pocky out to Tim anyway, waggling it near Tim's lips. Tim snatches it from him, and his hand seems to move in slow motion as Dick captures the image of his slim, callused fingers with clean but chewed ragged nails, the thin chocolate covered stick pressing against his pale lips, the faint glimpse of tongue and teeth.

Tim crunches on the snack.

They finish the pack in companionable silence, leaning against the kitchen counter. A few inches apart.

Dick closes the space between them. It's warmer with just that little movement.

And then Tim accuses, "Hey! You never had to answer what you thought the cons would be."

===

Dick towels off his hair, too tired to go for the hairdryer. He steps out of the bathroom, clicking off the light. He runs the towel through his hair a few more times as he stands in the hallway. He glances at Roy's door, the lights already out. It’s a surprise that Roy had actually gone to sleep that early.

Dick smiles faintly. It's good to see that he's sleeping early. His eyes are drawn to the stairs in the end, and the light kept on in the kitchen. His memory’s immediately drawn to the thought of Tim slotted against him by the counter just half an hour before. Tim is just the right height for Dick to pull against him and lean his cheek against, and then there's the scent of his head and shoulder's shampoo Dick knows he buys in bulk out of laziness. He imagines walking down the stairs to knock on Tim's door. Dick's feet keep him in place though.

There's the creak of a door, and Lian peeks her head out from behind the pink. She stares at him with a considering look and then beckons at him.

Dick follows as ordered to her doorway to find a stuffed seal being held out to him.

"For you to sleep with this weekend. As thanks for Debbie." The unicorn Dick had gotten her, he's guessing. "His name is Sammy and he likes sandwiches."

Dick's lips quirk as he thanks Lian for it and kisses her on the head. He pauses and asks, "Want me to tuck you in?"

She shakes her head, "I'm a big girl. Good night, Uncle Dick."

He ruffles her hair before she closes the door and he's left alone in the hallway again. He goes back to his room, closing the door to climb into bed, pulling Sammy to his chest to inspect the worn stuffed animal. Well-loved is the first word that comes to mind. It brings up the thought of Zitka, the stuffed toy version of her, patchy and gathering dust on his drawer top.

He adjusts Sammy so that the seal looks comfortable and then yawns, tugging the covers over them. Dick reaches for the light, and then he's in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling, soft fur brushing against his arm. It feels fundamentally wrong to not be physically exhausted at the end of the day. Dick rarely has problems going to sleep because he gets so little, but now, he's following Lian's bedtime. They'll probably be up far too early for his taste too.

Dick's eyes trace the plaster of the ceiling.

His fingers itch, and he's tempted to turn his phone on again. He has the time now to go through his case files that he'd been building, especially since it wouldn't affect anyone here if he did. Dick turns on his side to face the judgment of the seal, ignoring the urge. That wouldn't be following the spirit of the vacation. The relationship resolving retreat.

The world had survived without him while Nightwing and Dick Grayson were dead. It'd survive without him now.

He closes his eyes and sees Tim behind his eyelids. Can feel the soft sinking and then firm feel of his cheek and jaw under his hand. There's the whisper of Tim's hair against Dick's fingers and Dick presses their foreheads together, stroking his jaw. Tim's eyes are a pale blue. He has a surprising number of eyelashes. 

He falls asleep, an arm slung around the stuffed seal, to the thought of Tim pressed against his chest and tucked under his chin, solid and sure in his arms.

===

Dick snaps awake at the sound of floorboards. The door creaks open in the next moment, but Dick blearily identifies Tim’s face in time; he uses an arm to lift the covers. Tim slides in and into Dick’s embrace without a word. Between one breath and the next, Dick is asleep soaked in warmth, breathing in the scent of Tim’s shampoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After they break the railing, Tim says, "Batman can pay for that."


	3. Chapter 3

Tim wakes up in Dick's bed alone, drool sticky on his cheek. It takes him a moment to realize where he is and why his bed is so big and comfortable and clean. He rolls over onto his back to stare up groggily at the plastered ceiling. What does it mean when your potential boyfriend isn't in the bed when you wake up after the first time you share a bed? 

He groans and decides to linger in the bed and then flinches before he glances to his right at the brush of soft fur to find a fat grey seal staring back at him. Tim jabs at the soft animal before gathering it up in his arms and rolling back over onto his stomach, squishing it against the bed. He chews on his inner cheek.

He's conflicted. On one hand, he wants Dick.

Tim tries and fails not to snort as he splays his limbs out. Who _doesn't_?

He knows it'd feel really good to wash his face, brush his teeth and walk down stairs to find Dick, talk to him, get that fuzzy excited feeling in his stomach that he gets when he's with Dick. On the other hand, the bed is warm and soft and he's only going to get to sleep in it one more night.

Tim dallies for ten more minutes before he drags himself out of bed.

When Tim rounds the stairwell, he finds the radio playing Killer Queen, the lights turned on full force, making him blink. Dick, Lian, and Roy are dancing around the room making pancakes. It's obvious none of them know the lyrics to the song either by the way they mumble along to it. Tim rubs at an eye at the sight of Dick throwing his head back in full dramatics as he air guitars.

Dick spots him first, and his grin makes Tim's stomach churn inside him.

"Hey, Tim, you're up," Dick says as he straightens himself out.

"Yeah..." Tim says slowly as Dick gestures at a seat.

"Too bad," Dick says with a glint in his eye. "Was gonna wake you up with breakfast in bed. Can't believe today was the day you decided to wake up before noon."

Tim considers but decides not to say that he'd woken up because he'd been cold. It'd been warm under the thick comforter, but somehow he'd identified that the large, warm heater beside him had left and his sleep was that much less satisfactory because of it.

"So what toppings?" Tim pulls the chair out, the legs scraping against tile as he sits down, leaning a cheek on his hand.

Lian hums, tossing her head back and forth to the music, tapping her spatula against the stove, "Daddy bought chocolate chips and m&m's and nougat and Reeses pieces."

Roy lets out a little snort and places a calming hand on Lian's head. "She's going through a chocolate phase, and I'm weak."

"I'm going through a chocolate life," Lian says in return, eyes still trained carefully on the heating pan, waving her spatula around.

Dick chuckles before adding in, "We have apples, blueberries, strawberries, bananas, an assortment of chocolates and candies, cinnamon, raisins, etc. What're you up for, Timbo?"

Tim rubs his eyes, not holding back a yawn. You, he wants to say, back in the bed, in my arms. But he also really wants to watch Dick make him breakfast and really wants to get to eat the breakfast Dick makes him.

"Blueberries?" Tim says.

"Blueberries it is."

Tim leans his head back on his hand and slowly sinks down until his cheek is lying on the table, his arm splayed out.

He gets rapped on the hand.

"Hey!" Roy says. "No sprawling out on the dinner table."

"There's a penalty of twice as many vegetables for that," Lian says, turning to glance at Tim before returning immediately back to the pan. 

"Oh no," Dick says, "That might just kill Tim. I don't think he could go from zero to a hundred that fast."

Tim smacks him as he sits up to yawn and says, "I eat my vegetables, Dick. Stop acting like _I'm_ the bad example here." He turns to Lian, making an appropriately apologetic expression. "Sorry, Lian. I should know better than that."

She glances at him with her peripheral view, just a flash of green before she looks away, looking a little pleased before she tilts her head back to bump against Roy's stomach. "Guess he's forgiven for today."

Roys ruffles her hair, the edges of his eyes crinkling as he says, real soft, "Guess so, huh, Peanut?" The way her face lights up at her dad's affection is obvious, joined by her little smile that curls at the edges of her lips. She's a cute kid. Round cheeks, bright eyes, silky hair, and it's probably the self assurance that she radiates that really gets Tim.

"Not gonna apologize to Roy?" Dick snickers, popping a few blueberries into his mouth.

Roy shrugs, completely unoffended even if aims a chocolate chip at Dick, "What can I say? We have to defer to our betters." He turns back to the stove where Lian is and says, "Make sure the pan is already hot before you put the pancak- not that hot, Christ. We don't want charcoal." He reaches for the dial, Lian practically vibrating with impatience, sticking her lower lip out at how long it's taking.

Tim taps his fingers on the table, watching Roy's expression soften into a faint smile as he guides Lian to carefully pouring oil into the pan. He leans his head back on his knuckles and wonders if the weird vibes he'd been getting from Roy yesterday had just been Tim's own nerves and bias. Roy had been completely genial with Tim the entire time they were in Tim's room getting their presents, during games and dinner and- oh. It suddenly clicks. It's only when Lian's there.

Except that doesn't explain why.

He doesn't know what Roy might have against him. This is the most prolonged, intimate contact they've ever had as far as Tim can recall.

Or...does he think he isn't good enough for Dick?

There'd been the way Roy had smirked, sort of sneered, when he'd told Tim where his room was. Tim had assumed Dick would be in there and had walked in, looking around for him. Roy has showed up a few moments later to say, "Looking for something?" like the most cliche mocking movie scene Tim has ever seen. Not that it wasn't effective at making Tim feeling like a chump.

"Nope, no, Lian, we are not going to copy Uncle Dick here," Roy says, breaking Tim out of his thoughts. "We use the spatula when flipping."

"Yeah but he can do it with just the pan."

"I know, but if you drop your pancake, you're not getting any more."

Lian shoots Roy a squinty-eyed look before she concedes and takes the spatula he holds out to her, cheeks puffed out in defiance anyway.

Dick is humming as he uses the second hotplate on the stove to flip a blueberry pancake. He's in another worn thin T-shirt that clings comfortably to his figure, his sweats slung low on his hips. He's barefoot and moves his feet and hips to the music, head bobbing along.

It's embarrassingly domestic, and Tim shouldn't be so easily distracted by him, thinking about wedding bells, and he isn't, technically, because he's thinking about renting an apartment together and making brunch on the weekends and doing grocery shopping and having the aforementioned apartment have life and sound in it when he comes home. Have proof of another person in it besides Tim's spotty memories on when he'd used that old cup and why the light in his Red Robin base isn't working anymore.

Tim asks, "Where're the plates and cutlery?"

Dick and Roy point to the cabinets and drawers in sync. Tim watches as the two of them share a grin, Roy saying, "One day here and you already know where everything is."

Dick shrugs. "What can I say, Harper? Old habits die hard." He turns back around to Tim, grinning, "Get the biggest plates so we can fit the fruit salad in the fridge on the side."

Tim nods, getting up. As he gets the plates, pulling them out carefully, Dick sidles over to him and presses against him, warm and soft. "Could you serve the fruit too? Make sure you don't give Lian any strawberries. She hates them."

"Yeah, got it."

Dick plants a soft kiss on Tim's head, and as much as it makes him dizzy, Tim wonders how Dick has the audacity to do that.

"By the way," Tim turns to find Dick's eyes crinkling, spatula held in hand, "I was going to torture you about it if you asked for any, but I can't believe you didn't. Anyway, coffee's hidden behind the popcorn maker. It's still hot. I saved two cups for you."

Tim mumbles a thanks, and wonders if Dick would be receptive to getting a blowjob as thanks for saving him hot coffee. Wonders what he'd say if Tim had said the reason he hadn't remembered to ask was because he'd been distracted by Dick.

 

===

 

They finish breakfast, and- do absolutely nothing. Everyone's too full and lethargic, and Tim just wants to crawl back into bed for a few more pleasant hours of sleep. He's not willing to give spending time with Dick for it though, not when they have a limited amount of time. He's also not going to drag Dick away and have the two of them ~suspiciously~ disappear to one of their rooms for several hours. Not that Dick would probably even let something "suspicious" happen, so he resigns himself to being half asleep on the couch, watching Dick play Connect Four with Lian.

Roy's out back, something about getting the chance to fix the roof drain since someone's watching Lian for him.

Tim doesn't really know what to do with his time now. He's never had this much free time in a long time, and he could go get his laptop and catch up on the Spiderman comics or Thundercats, but he knows he'd never find the time outside of this to actually finish any of it. He doesn't really want to anyway. As bored as he is, he doesn't want to move away from Dick's proximity, the man's presence enough to leave Tim feeling content as he watches Dick's hunched back.

He could spend this time to think but he knows he doesn't have any answers at the moment. Dick does, and he's not giving them away right now. There's no point in making himself run around in circles any more than he already has.

He sees Lian's eyes flicker up to Dick's after she drops the game piece, and she grins.

"You have me trapped," Dick hums with devastation. He throws his head back onto the couch cushions and shifts so that he has his shoulder and arm pressed against the line of Tim's calf. He tilts his head back lazily to look at Tim. "What do I do, Timmy? Save me."

Tim gives Dick a dry expression before he sits up to look at the game. Dick is trapped. No matter what move he makes, Lian will get a connect four. A double connect four either way.

He turns to raise an eyebrow at Dick.

At least if Dick did lead Lian to this overwhelming victory, he wasn't too obvious about it from how pleased Lian looks.

“Looks like a K.O. Better beg for mercy now," Tim suggests.

Dicks tosses an amused grin Tim's way before he gasps dramatically. “Lian, its your Uncle Dick. Don't do this to me.”

She raises her eyebrows and then fills in both spots getting double double connect fours.

Tim chokes at Dick dumbfounded and betrayed expression. He forgot how good of an actor Dick could be. And it's _cute_. Dick is cute as he breaks character, out into a wide grin from ear to ear.

Dick notices and he yanks at Tim's leg, pulling Tim down with a yelp until he's straddling Dick's shoulders. Tim shoves at Dick’s head, squirming with a loud protest, but Dick's grip on his thighs is firm.

"I’ll bring you down with me if that’s how you’re going to be," Dick says.

“Oh no,” Tim says flatly, but he also can't help a smile. Dick returns it, and there goes the butterflies in Tim's stomach again. He's vaguely reminded of his Dad telling him about how powerful eye contact can be. A father to son lesson when it came to getting respect from others. His dad had been big on that. He had been.

Right now, Dick's blue eyes are definitely overwhelming and overloading his outdated brain.

Dick turns his head, locks of his hair brushing against Tim's stomach where his shirt rides up. Tim just gives up at that, that a light touch like that makes him _want._ Want what? He doesn't really know. Its just the vague thought of being engulfed in Dick's arms and heat. Tim throws the rest of him that isn't held prisoner onto the couch so he's staring up at the ceiling as his mind helpfully clamps onto the next most problematic thought in Tim’s mind.

It’s been plaguing him since the conversation in Dick’s room in the afternoon yesterday.

Dick's always been able to get along with his exes. He's practically famous for that amiability. So then why had it sounded like he didn't think he and Tim could be friends in the case they did break up?

They were friends now. Better than friends. Brothers. Family. Like Dick himself had said. It didn't matter how long they went without seeing each other. They always clicked just like that, falling into an easy rhythm.

The only contrasting factor when comparing Dick's relationships would be the people he dates. Hence, Dick thinks that he specifically wouldn't be able to be friends with Tim if they did break up.

Technically, in this case since it was all theoretical, the varying factor would be Dick's perception of Tim.

So then what did Dick see in Tim that made him think they couldn't end well if they ended.

Tim is friends with his exes...sort of. Not that he and Ariana talked much anymore. Stephanie was only pissed at him 40-50% of the time. Cassie didn't really count because that's just been a kiss because both of them couldn't deal with Conner being dead...

Tim's stomach twists at the reminder of those memories. He switches tracks.

And Tim realizes that no, he isn't really friends with his exes anymore but then again, most people aren't. Dick is the outlier.

So then...

Tim can't really think of any good reasons why.

Did Dick think Tim would break that easily?

Or maybe he thought Tim was that fragile.

Tim closes his eyes, focusing on the warmth of Dick’s head propped on his thigh. 

What would happen if Dick broke up with him? The acid in his stomach burns at the thought. But it's one Tim still wants, needs to consider anyway.

He’d gotten along fine- well, not fine, but reasonably okay or also very badly when Dick had chosen Damian to be his Robin. But Tim’s memories of that time are all tinged with desperation and paranoia. Desperation to find Bruce and show everyone, to find him and have Batman back. Hope turning to paranoia that Dick would appear and come for him and believe him, and lie about it to take Tim back. Hope and mindless fantasies where Dick chose him and chose him again and again and meant it each and every time.

Tim reaches a hand out unconsciously to run it through Dick’s hair. It’s soft under his hands.

It’s not that he can’t do with him. It’s that he’d rather not.

It’s that Tim is scared and tired and regretful and he's been that way for a while now. It's that Dick takes most of that away and it's addicting, feeling like himself again. Feeling good.

Tim gets a pat on his thigh and lazily props himself up on his elbows to find Dick smiling faintly at him, looking like he might've been staring at Tim for a while. It takes a moment for him to get out of his mind, and then Tim realizes he's smiling too. Just a little.

Dick's smile grows wider. "C'mon, join us."

"Connect four is a two player game."

"We can play another one. One that might actually give me a chance at winning."

“What games do you have here, Lian?” Tim asks, turning to her, unable to help the way his voice gets a little softer.

Lian furrows her brow, thinking.

“Diiiiiiid....someone say Clue?” Dick breaks in during her thoughtful silence, a wide grin spreading over his stupid face. Tim smacks him on the back of his head at the same time Lian leans over the coffee table to smack a palm flat over Dick’s face.

“Ow,” Dick says pitifully as both of them withdraw.

“No,” Tim and Lian say in unison.

“Even you, Tim?," Dick says, "My own brother. My train training buddy. My watch-Batman-fight-Hugo-Strange-while-eating-popcorn-buddy. My sewer-crawling-pal. My-”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Tim says, shoving a hand over Dick’s mouth. He gets licked in return and lets out a yelp, snatching his hand back..

“Gross,” Tim intones, scowling at a grinning Dick, as he wipes his hand off on his jeans.

Lian watches them with interest and Tim fights the heat of his face. "Um," he says intelligently. "So no Clue. Do you have any suggestions, Lian?"

"I was thinking we could watch something. Maybe-"

"-Animal Planet," Dick says with a pointed finger, in unison with Lian. His shit-eating grin doesn't fade, and Lian frowns at him. "Sorry, sorry," Dick says. He gestures at her. "I shouldn't have interrupted. Go ahead."

Lian turns to crawl towards the cabinet underneath the TV, revealing the shelf filled with Animal Planet DVDs. "I was thinking Animal Planet," Lian says to Tim.

"Sounds good," Tim replies, leaning forward as far as he can, with Dick's hands still around his thighs, to take a look at the options. He turns to Lian. "What's your favorite?"

"Mmm..." Lian hums, sliding her finger over the titles. "Penguins. But I like dolphins and seals too." 

Tim slides off the couch when Dick finally releases him just as Lian says, "What do you think?"

Tim tilts his head sideways to read the titles. "Maybe..."

There's a bang from outside along with a curse that Tim is pretty sure isn't meant for Lian's ears. Her frown only deepens, never taking eyes off her DVDs. Dick moves to get up after a short laugh, and he claps Tim’s shoulder, waiting for his acknowledgement before he says, "I'll go check on Roy. Be back in a sec."

Tim’s eyes seem to be glued to Dick as he watches the man, unable to bring himself to say anything else. “Yeah. Have fun.”

Dick shoots him back a wry glance before he gives Tim a thumbs up and walks out the front door, immediately turning right.

 

=== 

 

Tim reminds himself for the third time not to turn his head back at each creak of the house. Dick’s not going to be there obviously, and Tim knows he wouldn’t be back that soon, and every little noise should stop making him glance towards it.

He turns back to face the TV with a little frown, stifling a yawn. So. Dolphins. Very cool mammals. It's not something he's really that interested in though. Damian would probably be a bigger fan. Tim tries to focus on the TV for a few minutes before he gives up.

He then catches Lian sneaking a peek at him and holds back a little smile as he trains his eyes on the dolphin herd leaping up and over the waves, crashing down and rising above again. He can wait.

“Thanks for the tamagotchi,” Lian says out of nowhere.

Tim turns to her, “Yeah, sure. I was a little surprised you liked it.”

“They’re sorta old,” Lian says, “but Milagro had one too when I was smaller and I was really jealous.”

“Milagro? Reyes?” Tim raises his eyebrows.

“Mhhmm.”

“You know Blue Beetle’s little sister?” Tim says with some incredulity. He hadn’t realized Lian interacted that much with superheroes and their families. Not to mentioned, he didn’t think Jaime and Roy were that close.

“Daddy couldn’t always find a babysitter so he brought me along a lot. After, lots of people volunteered to babysit me because I’m really cute.”

Tim bit back a laugh. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Lian says, bouncing in her seat. “Rose was one of my favorites. She would sneak out with me a lot to the park or the zoo or the aquarium. Sometimes we wouldn't even _pay_. She'd just throw me over the fence.”

“Wilson?” Tim eyes Lian in disbelief who nods sincerely. He can't help the incredulity. Rose has always been a good person at heart, but he's not so sure about trusting her with a little kid. Mainly because she's not the best influence. 

Especially considering the breaking into zoos part.

She nods again. “Uncle Dick came around a lot when I was younger - Daddy told me so, but later on, he stopped coming by as often. He did babysit me sometimes though. Daddy always smiled a lot more when he did. Or he would get really sad after when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.”

That's...interesting to know. Tim wants to know more about Dick and Roy's relationship. Afterall, it isn't just that Dick and Roy have a relationship, but the Dick's pretty intimately involved in his life in a way he isn't with Garth or Wally. Let alone the fact that Dick had chosen to come here to figure out his and Tim's relationship. 

“Your...dad really cares about Dick, huh?”

Lian turned her face to Tim, large eyes wide and guileless, a little frown on her face. “Yea, he does.”

“Did they-” Tim stops himself before he asks an eight-year-old about whether her dad had ever dated Dick or whether they had any one night stands together.

“So then you don’t have any other online pets? I mean there’s still Neopets and Animal Crossing.”

Lian wrinkles her nose, a sulk forming on her face.

“No, Daddy thinks technology is bad for me. Just because he's old and spent all his time as a kid shooting arrows at stuff.”

Tim snorts. Figures. That's what most strict parents end up doing. That's what his dad had done when he'd come back, especially with Dana trying to help with the parenting books. They'd been nice but overbearing, though the reasons for that are obvious. And good, Tim knows, that they'd wanted to try at all. “He limits your computer time?”

“Yeah. I only get three hours a day.” she says with a pout.

"That sucks," Tim says intelligently, but she seems to be satisfied with that. His eyes flicker back to the TV that’s now talking about dolphin migration. The dolphins that are coastal travel south for the winter for the warmer weather. Like birds, Tim supposes, watching them glide through the water, sleek and graceful with every efficient movement. He wonders how they know where to go each winter.

He thinks Lian's absorbed in the sight but then she asks, still facing the screen, “Do you have a lot of friends?”

Tim pauses, knowing he stiffened a little, but really the only ones that might notice are Cass and Dick, maybe Bruce and Steph if they were in that kind of mood.

“Yeah, I suppose I do?”

“Who’re they? I bet I know them. I know most of the superheroes and their secret identities.” Lian leans in a little, eyes wide, speaking fast.

Tim raises his eyebrows, wrinkling his nose as he thinks. “Umm...Superboy - Kon, Impulse, or Kid Flash - Bart - now. Wondergirl - Cassie. Connor - the second Green Arrow. Arrowette - Cissie, Lil’ Lobo...I get along with most people in our community.” He turns to Lian, gauging her expression. She seems unperturbed. Tim wonders if she considers that a long list or not.

"They're all superheroes?”

“I mean....Tam’s my friend sort of...” Tim chews on his inner cheek. “Most of the people I’m close with know about all this, so they’re involved in some way,” Tim gestures, shifting his position to fold his leg on the couch and twist his torso to face Lian.

Lian seems to take his words seriously, frowning down at her own lap. She fiddles with her fingers and then asks.

"Do you think Daddy gets lonely here?"

"Uh..." Tim says.

"Because I know he moved here for me. Because he was scared after the attack and because I wanted him to spend more time with me. He doesn't really get to spend time with superheroes anymore and those were all his friends. When Uncle Dick said he was coming, Daddy wouldn't stop talking about it." She knits her brow. "I mean I liked having friends at school and having so many places to go when we lived in the city...plus there were so many places I liked eating at... but I don't mind living here if it'll make Daddy happier. I just think he might be living here for me."

"Lian..." Tim says. His chest rises and then falls in a slow steady breath. "I think that's something you can only ask your dad about. But I think," Tim adds, "that if he chose to move here for you, then it's also something good for him. Because your safety and your happiness make him happier and more fulfilled than anything else could. Being a superhero is great, but in the end you do it for people. And what person would Roy most want to protect more than you?"

She stares at him and then shrugs, looking away, a frown lining her lips.

He bites back any more words he might try to add. He gets why she feels that way, that old quiet guilt that never completely goes away. It'd always been his parents deciding things that Tim had followed because he trusted them and because they had always seemed so fragile to him. Like they didn't even understand their own feelings when Tim had watched them carefully enough to know that it wasn't anger - it was fear that made his dad say Tim couldn't be Robin anymore. 

Though mostly, Tim muses, he'd done what they wanted because he'd wanted to earn their love. 

Lian wants to be good to her dad, but she doesn't know how, and doesn't know how to convince her that sometimes letting someone be kind to you is being kind to them. He thinks he'll tell Dick about this later. He'd know what to say, or at the least, could help Tim figure out what to say.

“I guess so," Lian gives, "but this feels a little overboard for it. I was happy enough before. Daddy even avoids having more than a few people over at the house all at once because he thinks it’ll draw super villains’ attentions. Stuff like that.”

“That’s..." Tim says, "a very astute observation Lian.”

She shrugs her small shoulders again, eyes downcast. “I talk to Auntie Dinah on the phone a lot. I don’t have a smartphone, but I can still use the landline.”

 

Tim snaps his head around when there’s a loud crash outside and then a roar of laughter that slowly quiets until it’s inaudible to them. When his chest stops racing again, he turns back to find Lian with her eyes still downcast.

He thinks about it for about half a second and then, “So uh, Lian, can I ask you a question?”

She twists her lips in consideration before replying, “Okay.”

Tim lets out a little laugh, offering a lopsided grin for Lian’s inspection.

“When you get mad at your dad for being overprotective, what do you do?

“I yell at him.”

Tim can't help the little laugh it incites. “Uh. Makes sense I guess.”

“What do you do when you're mad?” She toys with her pigtails.

Tim shrugs a little. “I try not to be. At least not at the people I care about. I mean I do it for work, because my patience can only last so long...”

Lian nods. Then asks, “Do you ever get lonely?”

Tim has to think about it for a second. “I mean...sometimes, yeah, but our work can be lonely if you're not part of a team. I just have to remember that everyone who cares about me is just a phone call away.”

"Do you call them?"

"I-no, I mean, sometimes." Tim shrugs. “It’s easy to forget about people when I have work to do. I think clearest when I'm alone, but I like working with others. I prefer it actually.”

It's funny that he says that.

It’s been hard to talk to Kon lately. They were fine in person, but not so much messaging online or on the phone. But Tim didn’t have much time for in person hanging out anymore considering he was still managing a portion of Wayne Co, was doing work as Red Robin, dealing with his family and all the unexpected problems that they always brought with them, just trying to adjust to being a young adult and doing his own laundry and dishes and grocery shopping.

Then again, Kon at university seemed to be just as busy with school - since the Kents had insisted - and with superheroing.

He misses him.

He misses all of them. And still, Tim had confronted them about it, but he can still see the careful way they treat him. They'd heard about it all, Dick, Bruce, _everything_ , and he knows what he'd done to try to get Conner back had set a precedent for him in their minds, but still. 

Maybe it's that the world he and his family live in isn't the same as the one the rest of the world lived in. This was normal for them. Pain and sorrow and never forgetting because that's not something they can allow for themselves, while the rest of the world...tries to move on. And Tim might forgive and overcome, but he'll never forget. Still, he misses Bart’s speed talking and blatant and unintentional ignoring of him out of impatience, his fast mind and quick curiosity.

Cissie’s sharp wit. Her sharp eyes and efficient support, and the way she could listen without judgment. Cassie’s low amused snorts. The way she would utterly obliterate Tim in sparring, brimming with power and energy that always brought a light to her eyes. The life in them.

It reminds him that Dick’s death, faked or not, had hit where it’d hurt most. Another meaningless death. Another loss to add to the tally. Just someone else he'd never get back. Tim hadn’t let himself get so far as he had before with attempting cloning, but there’d been more than a few days curled up in his bed, staring blankly at the blue light coming off his computer screen that showed spiraling DNA because there’d been a hole gnawing inside his chest.

I miss you. I miss you, and I'll never see you again.

But Tim did and he could've that entire time. Could've known Dick was alive and well.

He glances away from Lian. 

"Do you get lonely when Uncle Dick isn't with you?"

Tim blinks.

"You two like each other, don't you?" Lian pushes, "You're supposed to miss the people you love when they're not there."

"I...yeah. I miss him when he's not with me." Tim has to take a moment to remember what they were talking about before. Right. "Not all the time, but a lot of the time." 

Maybe Tim is more alone than he'd thought. He'd let his relationships fall to the side too easily. It'd been easier, more convenient to get any human interaction he needed through Jason, Duke, or Damian, especially when he works with them so often. It's probably not a good thing. 

That was one of the things Dick had mentioned. The fact that Tim doesn't have too many people he's willing to rely on. Would he have told Jason or Duke or Damian or any of them about wanting to die if he'd lost his dad recently? Maybe Conner before - no, not before. Still.  But that's still a maybe. Because no one's ever been able to offer his comfort or understanding the way Dick has. And if Tim loses that...

Lian yawns, staring at the dolphins again, her shoulders slumping.

Maybe Dick's been wondering if they'd just be better as brothers. That they were meant to be brothers. What are they together? Dick had said he'd been wondering about how they work now instead of how they would work. And did it matter what they were? 

It's just Dick and Tim. And Tim just wants to love him. Because it hurts but still feels better than most things in the end.

There's the click of the front door, and then Dick and Roy's voices drift in, still too distant to be made out.

Tim shakes his head, coming back to himself to find Lian leaning against him, eyes half lidded as she stares at the TV. Tim jolts, doubletracking, trying to figure out how much time had passed while he was thinking. It couldn't have been that long, but the sleepy Lian against his side seems to say the contrary. He reaches out tentatively and then touches her hair. Her eyes slowly fall shut at that movement, and Tim recalls his mom patting him on the back until he fell asleep when he was a kid. The steady rhythm and the warm hand on his back. He pats her head and continues the movement, hoping it's the same for her.

"Yeah right. Please. Donna loved my ass," Roy says loudly, humor in his voice.

Dick laughs, "Alright, Speedy. How about this? You were _probably_ her favorite redhead in our team."

" _Probably_?" Roy scoffs.  "C'mon. All I had to compete against was Wally. I definitely was her favorite."

"Wally would have something to say about that." 

There's the sound of their footsteps on the wood, Dick's lighter sneakers matched to Roy's heavier boots.

"He can try. I could call him up right now and smack down any argument he has. He's gotten soft, giving in to Irey and Jay's demands all the time."

"And you don't with Lian?" Dick teases, and his voice is close enough that he must be just at the threshold of the living room."

"I'm titanium, buddy," Roy yells and then there's the sound of a light smack as Dick whispers, "Lian's sleeping. Keep it down."

Lian mumbles, shifting and burrowing deeper into Tim's side. 

Dick rounds the couch to settle down next to Tim. He asks, quietly, eyes soft as he gazes at Lian, then he looks up and meets Tim's eyes.

“So what’ve you two been up to?” Dick asks with a little smile, waiting to hear.

 

===

 

 

"Fine," Dick had chuckled. "Fair's fair." He looked at Tim fondly. "Cons. I think that the last two things you said before you brought up Bruce were true. I don't always think as rationally as I should. And I'm worried that in case we do break up, you'd lose one person you can talk to about your problems. Even during, best case scenario is that you're always okay with talking to me about my actions. But I can't imagine anyone being that comfortable with it. You said you trust me a lot, and I just worry about how many people you trust enough to talk to about things like this. I'm worried I might end up abusing that trust."

Dick takes his elbows off the counter, straightening his back. "Being in relationship is different than being friends or brothers. I'm afraid that you'll be less willing to say something you think would upset me or that it would hurt you more when you do. I know that it's my responsibility to make sure that when you do, I show you proof I can handle it maturely, but I still worry about how much faith you put in me."

"That doesn't mean I can't be impartial, Dick," Tim had replied.

Dick had looked at Tim with a vague smile on his face. "No, It doesn't mean you can't be impartial," Dick had agreed.

"I trust you, Dick. For good reasons. It's not blind. Trust me too."

"I do trust you, Tim."

"Okay," Tim had said. Because what else could he have said to Dick's genuine smile?

Dick had then gotten up, moving to clean up. When he was done, placed a hand on Tim's shoulder and squeezed before he'd gone upstairs.


	4. Chapter 4

Dick lets the screen door fall shut, leaving it unlocked. He pauses to glance back in, catching a glimpse of the top of Tim's head tilted towards where Lian probably is. He smiles at that, eyes lingering, before his glance slides over the scenery. There's no one around for miles and even if someone did show up, Tim is more than capable of taking care of Lian. His gaze goes past the distant groves of trees, thickening into a forest and over the road as he goes down the two steps to the walkway. Their cars are parked out in front, the sunlight reflecting off their hoods, making Dick squint. He turns to the matte rooftop with some relief to look for a sign of the man, though from the yelp, he's guessing Roy had fallen from whatever perch he'd found.

When he doesn't see him, he rounds the house, passing the worn white wooden panels along it and at the back, finds Roy sprawled on the grass, rubbing his ass with a frown.

"You alright there?" Dick asks, coming up to the man. He bends down a little to offer a hand, and Roy grasps it, letting himself be pulled up.

"Never better. Just love smacking ass first into the ground,” Roy mutters as he pats dirt off his pants. He looks back up at Dick, pale green eyes slightly unnerving. He stares longer than usual and there's something calculating in his eyes as his eyes dilate. Dick sometimes forgets how Roy had grown up around the same smiling, two-faced rich people as he has, how shrewd he was. Though to be fair, Roy did have a tendency to bulldoze his way through.

"If I told you I fell on purpose to get you out here alone?"

"I'd tell you you risked an injury or something you could've just asked me for," Dick says. He pauses and stares at Roy, taking in the red hair, loosely tied back and the scruffy goatee. "Did you, Roy?"

He tilts his head and cracks a smile. "Nah, that'd be a lot of effort just to get you out here when I could've just asked."

Dick makes a sharp noise reminiscent of laughter before he pats Roy's shoulder. "If you want," Dick says, glancing over at the fallen ladder, "I can play support and make sure your ladder and you stay up this time."

"Oh, I'm always up,"  Roy says without a thought. Dick rolls his eyes. "But I think I'm good for the day. The mold was worse than I thought and it's really rotting the wood up there, so it probably won't be able to bear any weight for much longer. Plus both my and Lian's allergies have been acting up. Figure the mold must be in the house too now. I'd better get a professional to handle it."

"Sounds like a plan." Dick sticks his thumb in his pocket, eyeing the roof again before he turns his attention back on Roy. "Then is that all your handy man duties for the day? Cause I think Lian is hoping you'll come back in to watch some animal planet with in?"

Roy makes a sound of pain. "Watching Animal Planet with my daughter should be counted as part of my handy manly duties, considering the fortitude it's going to take me to watch something I've seen a million times.” He sighs and runs his fingers along the loose locks in the back. “I guess I don't have a choice. Not when I can't say no to her." He pauses and then says, "Just one more thing." He stares at Dick like he's seeing through him. "I did actually want to talk to you."

Dick raises his eyebrow and can't help how he immediately feels defensive despite the fact that he'd known it'd be coming. Again, Roy, not subtle. Though Dick supposes he appreciates the attempt, and maybe Dick had been hoping that maybe Roy might decide to leave it instead.

"Why've you been acting weird?"

"Weird how?"

"Like you're on edge. You're too careful, no," Roy frowns, "you're hesitant. You're indecisive."

Dick looks Roy over before he replies, "This is something where I can be careful and take my time. I have to be decisive when I'm out on the field, but here-"

"Maybe, Dick, but when it comes to your personal life, you're still as blunt and clear cut as you are out there, Dick. You're just... gentler because you can afford it."

Dick stills himself, an old habit drilled into him, to show nothing. "What're you trying to say, Roy?"

"I'm not trying to say anything, I'm just-"

"Yeah, you are," Dick interrupts.

They eye each other, and Dick feels this old familiar, tired feeling, stifling, like he's standing in San Francisco, Wally and Donna and Garth onlooking, and Roy and him snarling back and forth. He can practically feel that harsh sun beating down on his head between each break of the gusts of wind. It's an old feeling he'd long been sick of, and one a part of him misses anyway for all that it feels like yesterday and another lifetime ago. Ten years has gone by so quickly.

"So just say what you need to say," Dick says, curbing his tone.

Roy is impassive, and he's acting with a kind of calmness that wasn't in him before. It makes Dick feel distant.

"I think you need to take some time to deal with everything that's happened to you before you jump into another relationship, Dick," Roy says, collectedly. "You were cut off from contact with the people you loved for months, Dick. We mourned you. I-" Roy knits his brow. "Then when you came back, Bruce had amnesia, and soon you were dealing with Wally's return and Raptor. Don't you think," Roy says with a frown, "that you should give yourself more time?"

"I love him," Dick says, quietly, eyes flickering away towards the grass. He sticks his hands into his pockets. "It's the people in my life that give it meaning." He rubs his fingers along the lining of his pockets. He can feel the threads of his thoughts going everywhere as he tries to find the right words. That he feels like a shark, he has to keep on moving forward or the world around will drown him. That Tim is different, new, and unexplored and good. That Tim has all the qualities Dick is starting to find he needs in another person. That he wants. That there's no time for a break, not when Tim had stared him down, furious and nervous and lost, after his confession had accidentally passed his lips.

That every second he gives himself is every second he's not improving. And it's habit now, one based on his time with a paranoid Batman, and then exacerbated by the lives of his team members in his hands, finalized by working alone with no one to hold back his thoughts. Damian had made him better for a while. Dick thinks he now understands what Bruce had meant when he said he'd needed a Robin to hold himself back.

Then months undercover, mourning Damian and working full time for the certainty that came with purpose. Only for those beliefs to be shattered with his return, once by his family, again by Raptor, and then again by Wally. Erased from his mind so easily, Dick helpless. Who was he at all anyway, losing his past, his friends, who he was, all to play a role.

It seemed time for a change when he'd started questioning that. But not one where he stops moving, one where he picks another direction to go in.

Dick meets Roy's eyes. “Don't involve yourself with my romantic life, Roy.”

“I'm not the one that forced you to come here, let alone come here with Tim, Dick.”

“Me coming here wasn't permission for you to meddle.”

"I'm not meddling," Roy scowls. "I'm being your friend, Dick, if you haven't forgotten what that means."

"What-"

"You faked your death. Or, you and Batman faked your death."

It suddenly occurs to Dick that when he'd called Roy about this weekend, that he'd only started with their usual greeting, like nothing had happened. It hadn't occurred to him that Roy might...

Roy clenches his jaw. "I had to tell _Lian_ that you were _dead._ You didn't even think to call and say something when you came back?" Roy stares Dick down before he chuckles and looks down at the grass. Dick doesn't breath for a moment, wanting to reach out, but instead he stills again out of habit. "No, course not. Why would you anyway?"

"Roy."

Roy looks up, hurt, a gaping wound made obvious through his expression, and searches Dick's face with a carefulness, a weary wariness of being hurt again. Dick doesn't know what he finds on his face. "If it's the people in your life that give it meaning, Dick."

"It is." Dick licks his lips, and breathes out, feeling the weight sink in on his shoulders again. He feels like dead weight to himself. "I'm sorry. I should've hit you up when I came back. Let you take a punch at me."

Roy breathes out sharply through his nose, a laugh. The wariness sinks in on itself to something hollow.  

"It wasn't because I don't value you. I was just...disoriented." Dick scratches his head. "Feel free to give me as much shit as you want for it."

Roy quirks his lips and only shrugs his broad shoulders as says, "I don't want to give you shit for it. I want to see life or you give yourself a break." He pauses and holds a finger up with a smile just on this side of too forced. "Now, I'm going to say something that'll piss you off, but just hear me out and let me finish."

Dick makes a hand wave as a go ahead, not sure what else to do. It's not this easy or this simple to forgive something like this, but this isn't something Dick thinks he should be forgiven for anyway.

"You got into your relationship with Kori because she pushed you for it, and when you're that age, you make stupid decisions no matter what. I'm not saying you and her were a stupid decision, especially when you two loved each other so much, but considering all you had on your plate at the time, adding a romantic relationship to that probably wasn't the best choice. You keep trying to give what you can't give, and then when things start to fall apart, you cling onto whoever's your romantic partner at the time like they can save you."

Like Roy didn't pull similar dumb shit. Dick rubs his face, and holds the words he doesn't really want to say back. "That's a lot of thinking you're doing about my love life there," Dick says wryly, but keeping his tone as gentle as possible, guilt rearing it's head still.

"I think about you a lot, Dick," Roy says quietly.

When Dick only studies him silently, Roy gives a jaunty wink, "Especially in the shower."

Dick gives him a flat look.

Roy snorts, a whole body laugh with the jolt of his shoulders. "I'm kidding, Shortpants." He shakes his head, something forlorn still in his expression, and Dick wonders if it's him who makes Roy make that expression the most. He thinks he can recall it from their Outsider days, just glimpses when Roy thought Dick was focusing on something else. "I think about you a lot because I think about all the things I want to be. I- sometimes I just look at you, and I wonder, especially with what you did with that demon brat of yours, about what if you'd been Lian's dad."

"Um," Dick says, blinking. This wasn't something he'd been expecting.

Roy laughs. "Yeah, stupid, right?" He rubs the back of his neck, and Dick feels a light breeze rise over them. "I'm worried about you. You've always forced yourself to do what you have to do, chosen to be more responsible than you had to be until you just couldn't handle it anymore. It's a part of you that I admire, the fact that you do have that sense of duty, and knowing that Tim's someone you chose to take care of a long time ago..."

"He's not forcing me," Dick says quietly. "It's more like he's talking some sense in me. I don't think I would've realized that I could want, that I do want him if he hadn't said something."

"Really, truly, Dick?"

Dick smiles something bare and something honest, "Yeah, Roy. I'm. I'm not a victim here."

"I never said you were, but- y'know Donna and I talked about you a lot?" Dick studies Roy's face, the weathered skin and rough smile. His heart pangs at her name. Still. Always. "Even after we broke up. Made me jealous of you sometimes. But not the point. She said, and I agreed, you use other people as defenses, saying you're doing this or that for them when you’re avoiding your problems. And that kind of thing is easy when we’re heroes. We’ve always got a life- something more important than anything else - to save. Even when it's not a life... if it's not just you wanting to protect him, if you really think he could do the same for you, that Tim is the kind of guy who could hold you steady and handle you, then I'd say, go for it, but otherwise... give it some more thought, yeah?"

Dick breathes in. He swallows and scratches his cheek. No shit, he tries not to think. He's been agonizing over this since Tim's confession. Since he realized they could be something, but being that something would mean losing what they have. There'd always been something flirtatious in his interactions with all the people's he's dated before. Romance had been a pleasant, if distant and unnecessary end goal and that fact had underlined all their interactions. Tim was...is...

Dick had never had a sibling before. He hadn't really tried with Jason, and then Tim had come, and well, romantically or not, Dick had been swept off his feet. There's something special about their relationship. Tim has always, unequivocally, been his family, has been easy and simple to get along with. But that's not true, not lately. It's tension, and it's worse because it's tension underlined with love.

He quirks a smile at Roy watching him before he asks, “So what else did you and Donna say about me?”

Roy laughs, giving Dick his out, and claps him on the shoulder. “Way too much, Boy Wonder. Way too much.” He throws an arm around Dick's shoulder and pulls him in close, his hand too gentle and warm. "Trust me. Your name made its way around as a topic of gossip way too often."

 

===

 

Dick licks the last bits of dessert from his fingers. Snickerdoodles, watching the crumbs fall onto the veranda railing and further down. He's going pay for eating like he had at lunch today. Especially considering how much he'd been lazing around the past day or so.

Call it his quarterlife crisis, but Dick is partially considering getting his own ranch or house somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Ask Tim to go live there with him. And that's- it's not feasible, Dick knows he'd be drawn back to the city as an inevitability, but it's a nice pipe dream to entertain. And it says something that he'd consider asking Tim to go live there with him - that he's not thinking about Babs or Kori or Clancy, Helena, anyone else.

The sun is bright up high in the sky, and Dick has to keep his eyes down low towards the grass and the trees further out to avoid it. It's surreal sometimes to walk outside and see the weather like this. He'd become so accustomed to the weather in Gotham or in Bludhaven that even while he was working at Spyral, it'd been a shock to his system to walk out of the building and find clear skies.

Down on the grass, Tim yelps as Lian tackles him, and he takes the chance to gather her up in his arms, performing a backwards flip while holding her with ease. He lands on the grass firmly and Dick can see him laughing even from this distance. Dick leans his head on his hand, trying to memorize the scene. 

Tim had been furious when he'd found out Dick had faked his death. He'd been incredulous, infuriated, and hurt, and Dick had been surprised at that most of all of everyone's reactions. Because Dick had never realized how much he valued the trust Tim placed in him.

Dick juts his hip out, leaning his weight on one leg.

He supposes that he knows what part of it is, that it was something that had drawn him to Barbara as well - that Tim had had no good reason to put in the effort and pain he had to become a hero like they did. There's a faith in him that Dick has never seen tired out even after all these years. One that Dick doesn't know he sees in himself anymore. His own belief feels harsher, feels more sad and scared and resigned and Tim's is...defiant. Gentle. 

If Tim with his moral compass and faith trusts Dick than Dick can't really be all that bad. He's a good restraint - Dick takes the word back; Tim's a good reminder for all the things he strives to be, for all the faith and belief in taking this all step by step. It's a good feeling that he gives him. It's... bubbly.

Dick chuckles softly to himself, and shifts his weight to his other leg.

He wonders what Roy sees in him now that's so off. Dick doesn't really feel very different. He's well aware Spyral hadn’t been a good experience for him. It’d taken him a while to admit it, but he had. It'd been so easy to be exactly who Helena and Tiger expected him to be, the light hearted fool with a tempurpedic heart. It’d been the right persona for the mission too. It’d gotten easy to lie. And the best acting is done when you convince yourself of it too - and he had.

It’d let him be selfish because no one cared about Dick Grayson there, and the most they expected from him was to be annoying or a hot piece of ass or a soft-hearted fool. It was an easy escape from responsibilities, from the fact that Damian had died for him when it so clearly should have been the other way around. And to think Dick hadn't even been one of the people to bring him back. Like he hadn't even considered it. 

Dick rubs his face. He knows that kind of obsession isn't something to strive for, but there's an ache in his heart making him wonder if he should want to. He loves the people he loves in his life as much as any person can, he's confident of that, but he's not certain that his actions are to the right extent. If he shouldn't be doing more for them. If maybe he's in the wrong for not going to world altering extents to bring one person back.

He places an importance in saving others only because he knows it's right over anything else. It's a certainty.

But everything else is...

"Nice view, yeah?" Roy says, holding two iced teas with straws. He hands one to Dick.

Dick glances over the sight of Tim laughing, cheeks flushed. He takes the glass and ends up only pushing the straw around as he looks out distractedly. 

Tim catches sight of Dick and waves. Dick smiles and gives a little wave back, Tim lighting up at it before giving Lian his attention again.

Roy makes a snuffle and holds the straw for Dick to latch onto.

Dick takes a sip and then glances over at Roy to clink the rim of his glass to Roy's. "Thanks. The greenery is a nice change."

Roy snorts. "I'd imagine. I mean I grew up around this kind of scenery, so moving to the city was sort of a sad thing sometimes."

Dick hums in response. He can imagine. All of them had gone to where Roy had grown up on a mission once. It'd been surreal, seeing the difference in Roy in that environment.

Roy nods. “So I never got to ask how the job searching is coming along.”

Dick winces, turning slowly as he finishes his draught, cheeks hollowed. Roy grins and ruffles Dick's hair. When Dick finishes swallowing, he replies, ”Job searching? More like trying to figure out how I'd hold one down.”

“A elusive as ever, great leader. I wanted job options not this ambiguity.”

Dick narrows his eyes, huffing even as he says with an exasperated tone, “Elusive? Great leader?”

“You still hate the nickname, huh?” Roy just keeps on grinning and he’s always been this cheeky and shameless.

Dick glances at him from the corner of his eye. "Yeah, I do, Roy."

A pause, and then.

"So did you think about what I said yesterday?"

"...about how I should take some time away?" Dick asks slowly, tone careful as he gazes out at nothing.

"About how you should take some time for yourself."

Dick rubs his neck before he returns his hand to the glass, smearing drops of condensation along the glass. "Where would I even go?" Dick asks, trying to compromise. "I can't leave my work. I can understand why you were able to do it - you have to take care of Lian, but I... "

Roy grabbed Dicks shoulder and says, "You could come live here with us for a while, Dick." There's no ploy in his words, green eyes crystal clear as they look through Dick. It's as galling as it's gentle. It could be the gentleness that's so frustrating. "You could take care of yourself."

Dick pauses trying to process the conflicting signals Roy has been sending. Switching between joking and sorrowful and disapproving. He's never been good at dealing with emotions, with open, deep affection that isn't teasing. He can cope when there's a direct problem at hand, but spewing stuff like that without prompting?

"I don't need your protection, Roy," Dick finally decides on, trying to sound as gentle as possible. "I'm not Lian. I-"

"Maybe not. But can't I want to protect you?"

Dick pauses at that.

"I'm just saying," Roy says, "a romantic relationship isn't your only option when you can't handle it anymore. I don't love you any less than any girl I've ever loved."

Dick swallows, taking in an audible breath. Roy was overwhelming, was too much most days. And suddenly Tim appears in Dick's head, the shape of the feeling of the man, Dick's mind running fingers over it. Dick ducks his head, taking in one breath, two. When he lifts his head up again, the first thing he sees in Tim and Lian making daisy chains in the grass, both sitting crosslegged. He stares out at them, at the glare of the sun between him and them.

He turns to Roy.

Dick quirks his lips, meeting Roy's eyes. "I've never wanted safety. And I know, Roy. I've known since I made friends, family with the Titans, and you showed me you believed it too when you stuck with me in the Outsiders even when I didn't deserve it. I just don't think I could stay here is all. There's so much that I want, and so much I want to go after - Tim's a part of that."

Roy looks down at him impassively. Dick thinks for a moment Roy might refuse and bulldoze over Dick's words, but instead, he says, low and rough, "Okay, Shortpants." He reaches out to wrap an arm around Dick, large palm spread out on his back, as he pulls him in. Dick wraps an arm around Roy's waist, his face pressed into Roy's neck. 

The man's warm, slightly sweaty, and he's a familiar weight, solid, against Dick. 

Roy rubs Dick's back and then presses his lips to Dick's crown. He holds it there for a long moment before pulling apart and groping Dick's ass.

Dick snaps backwards, shooting Roy a glare. 

Roy isn't looking at him though. Instead, he's looking out at the grass towards Tim, and he winks down at him before turning back to Dick. Dick follows his eye line to find Tim staring at them, irritation clear on his face.

Dick sighs, raising his eyebrows as he looks up at Roy. 

"What?" Roy asks innocently. "Just some encouragement, y'know? Timmy's got to get his shit together if he wants to keep you."

"Roy," Dick says flatly.

Roy only waggles his eyebrows and gropes the air with his hands as a threat as he goes towards Dick again.

Dick glares, smacking Roy’s hands away even as he backs away, flipping him off. Roy chuckles, leaning his elbow back on the banister, and then he turns at the touch of damp glass, eyes wide as he mutters, “Shit!”

Both of them watch the glass spin through the air and fall with a crash, shattering into tiny pieces.

“Oooooo,” Lian yells from across the field, the both her and Tim looking up at Roy and Dick now. Dick only snickers, shaking his head as he leaves, saying, “You’re cleaning that up Harper. You’ve got to be a responsible dad and make sure Lian doesn’t get hurt by any glass.”

Roy shoots Dick a look even as he leans over the railing to glare at the glass, muttering to himself.

 

===

 

Tim’s staring down at the math workbook, eyelashes obscuring his irises from Dick. His eyelashes are oddly long, pale and feathery in the light. One of his eyebrows has hair stuck at odd angles and Dick laughs into his drink because he doesn’t even know how Tim had managed to do that. His bedhead is already something to behold. He supposes bed-eyebrows aren’t too far a jump for him.

It's a stupid detail.

Dick likes that. Dick doesn't think he can really explain explain loving someone, except that it makes you have faith in something more. If he could feel this way all the time - if he could feel a confidence in the good things in the world, then Dick thinks he might be closer to the person he wants to be.

Eventually he hops onto the counter, swinging his legs as he blows on his honeyed tea, made for him by an enthusiastic Lian with her porcelain tea set. He just keeps on watching Tim, thinking about the little hairs on the nape of his neck and the way they’d feel under Dick’s fingers. It’s funny to think that Tim shaves now. Dick wonders who taught him, regrets that it wasn’t Tim’s dad, but knowing Tim he’d probably just Youtubed it.

Dick can’t imagine him trying to start that conversation with Bruce. Even Dick hadn’t tried. He thinks they both should've had that chance to learn how and that neither of them had.

“Dick..." Tim starts, tone almost tentative, breaking Dick out of his thoughts. "You’ve been staring at me for like an hour now.”

Dick pauses and rests his mug on his lap. “An hour?” He looks at the clock even as Tim verbally confirms, “An hour.”

“Oh.” Dick blinks, “You’ve been staring at fourth grade math problems for an hour now?”

Tim flushes, scratching the nape of his neck, “You’ve been staring at me the whole time.”

“Yeah,” Dick agrees amiably. He feels a little like his brain isn't working right as he cups his mug with both hands. It's a pleasant warmth even in the muggy heat of the summer.

“So it’s sort of hard to concentrate,” Tim adds when it’s clear Dick doesn’t get it.

“I watch you during training all the time.”

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

Dick taps his mug, thinking and replies, “Yeah. Ok. Want me to stop?”

Tim gives him a look that’s two parts dumbfounded, one part irritated, and one part horny. He seems conflicted, Dick thinks, and it makes Dick laugh a little.

“I don’t know?” Tim says somewhat aggressively.

“Okay,” Dick says.

“What does okay mean?” Tim asks just as aggressively.

Dick reels a little, amused. “It means okay?”

“No, but what does it-” Tim chews on his lip. He furrows his brow, obviously frustrated. Dick feels a surge of fondness for him, for his insistence at understanding things and the way he can almost hear the cogs in Tim's brain ticking. The feel of it is soothing.

“It means take your time to make your decision,” Dick says, amused.

“Yeah, but are you going to keep on staring at me while I do?”

“Yes?”

“Then my silence is sort of making the decision for me.”

“Want me to rotate it out? Stare at you for a minute. Then stare at something else for another?”

“Now you’re just making fun of me.”

“Fun?” Dick grinned, “No one’s ever accused me of that.”

“Yeah,” Roy said, walking in, boots heavy on the wood. “No one on the team has. On the other hand, Jason- Jason also thinks you’re a stuck up prick who’s no fun.”

“Thanks,” Dick said wryly. Dick turns to Roy to Tim’s obvious relief as he looks back at the fractions. Tim's still too obviously listening in anyway as Dick takes a mug out, moving towards the sink. Dick draws his eyes slowly away from Tim to face Roy.

“By the way," Dick asks, turning on the water. "How is Jason doing?”

Roy twists his head to send him back a nonchalant if knowing look as he fills the mug up with tap water. “Are you going to get pissy if I tell you the truth?”

“Is the truth something that would make me pissy?” Dick counters.

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

Dick catches Tim holding back a snort. At least someone's enjoying this conversation. Dick glances back at Roy. Roy raises his eyebrows in response.

“I think we’re at a stalemate.”

“How about...” There's a silence as Dick sees Roy turning his head. Dick follows his line of sight to find him staring down at Tim. There's a long silence until Tim finally looks up, eyes bugging out a little to find their attention on him.  

“Uh,” Tim says.

“I’ll tell Timbo here,’ Roy continues as he moves from the counter to sliding an arm around Tim’s shoulder, “And he’ll tell me whether he thinks you’ll get pissy or not.”

“Sounds fair,” Dick says with ease, and Tim looks like he might want to strangle Dick. His expression settles into wry and resigned. Dick offers him a little helpless shrug.

When Roy leans into Tim's ear, Dick has to resist the urge to read Roy's lips, blocking him out by reciting the components of his motorcycle because the man's never capable of whispering quietly. He's nearly as bad as Wally.

Except Dick doesn’t pull his eyes away like he’d planned to and Roy’s face is too close to Tim’s his breath tickling the locks just by Tim’s ear. Dick’s fingers are getting a little itchy.

He hears the sound of whispered talking and then sees Tim squint at nothing as he says, “Why would you think this would-” He cuts himself off, thinning his lips as Roy continues.

“Mm,” Tim says.

“So?” Dick asks. 

Tim gives a little shrug, “The usual Jason. Plus he’s been getting along with Bizzaro and Artemis.”

Dick raised his eyebrows before acquiescing. In some cases it's really better for him to not know. Even Batman, for the most part, focuses his efforts in Gotham instead of the entire universe. “Sounds good. Thanks for the update, Tim.” He puts the mug on the drying rack before turning back to them.

Roy does a full body stretch before drawing his arms back down, placing a hand on the back of Tim's chair. "Well, it's time for this old man to go attend to his favorite daughter."

“Daaaaaddddddy,” Lian yells from upstairs.

Roy straightens up, “Right on cue. Have fun, love birds.” He gives Dick a salute and then pats Tim's shoulder as he exits the room.

Tim stares at Roy leaving before he turns back to Dick. Dick only gives him a little shrug and Tim makes a face before he turns back to his homework. 

It's only a minute later that Dick asks, humor in his tone “So then did you want me to leave?”

Tim glances up, taking a moment to lick his lips as he looks away and then back with a little wrinkle in his brow. “Why does it sound like you want me to say no?”

Dick gives a half shrug and a sheepish smile. “Because I do.”

"Yeah," Tim says, vaguely. "Okay."

Dick raises his eyebrows, but when Tim doesn't say anything more, even when Dick childishly kicks his chair, tilting it back, for Tim's attention, but only gets a glare in return, Dick resignedly goes back to humming.

Dick feels Tim's presence pull at him even when he isn't watching the younger man. That's what it feel like nowadays when he's with Tim. Like there's a force tugging him towards Tim. It's not something satisfied by physical contact which unsettles Dick a little. Physical contact has always been a big source of comfort to him. But instead, it's when Tim's eyes are on him, when he's talking to Dick and giving him his full attention that Dick can feel the pull lessen enough for him to settle. He doesn't understand it.

This awareness of where Tim is in regards to him.

Maybe it’s that he can see everything that Tim is to him now and is going to be, and thinks that he wants to be a part of that future. He wants it fervently.

Then Tim makes a slight move that Dick doesn't catch until he does it again. He pats the chair next to him.

Dick pauses.

“Alfred would chew you out for having bad enough manners to sit on someone’s counter,” Tim says evenly, staring at the same multiplication problem he’d been staring at for the past several hours. His shoulders are tense even if his face is impassive, a little resigned, mournful maybe. Tim's always been someone to be too sincere, someone who's dutiful, who chooses to be good, not in the way that Dick forces himself to be good or who gets caught up in emotions, but in an honest, respectful, understanding way, Dick thinks as he moves to sit down next to Tim, his shoulders folded in as his hands are pressed down on the chair between his legs.

Tim works on the homework. After twenty minutes, it seems like he actually is able to focus on it. Dick is just quiet, the space between filled with the scratch of pencil on paper.

"Hey, Timbo?"

Tim looks up, his lower lip red from being chewed on.

"You forgot the negative sign there."

Dick moves his hand from his chair to press his pointer finger over the problem in question and he sees Tim follow the movement. He stares at the problem longer than he would usually need to before Tim says a little hoarsely, "Uh. Yeah. I did. Thanks."

"No problem." Dick quirks a smile, withdrawing his hand, but Tim's hand slaps down over his before he gets it off the table. Tim's fingers curl around his and he doesn't turn, but Dick can see the faint red at the tips of his ears.

Tim slowly shifts their hands until Dick's is palm up, Tim's settled in his, their fingers tangled. Dick gives Tim's hand a gentle squeeze. He turns from gazing at their linked hands to watch Tim again and he can tell that Tim notices that he does. He stills and stutters to a stop before he finally lets out a long sigh and turns to Dick with a wry expression. "That was longer than a minute."

Dick blinks and then laughs, tuning away to stare at the toaster oven. "If you say so," he replies.

"Seriously?"

"I'm being good," Dick says with joking defensiveness. 

Tim tilts his head back to roll his eyes at Dick.

 

===

 

"You boys going to get ready for bed soon?" Roy asks from the stairwell, already in his pajamas.

Dick and Tim look up simultaneously from their dumb math puns they'd been writing down, passing the paper back and forth.

'are you the square root of -1? Because I'm pretty sure you're not real.'

Tim snickers and glances at Dick, not letting go of his hand even as he stands up to gather his stuff, tapping the papers. "So I made an answer key and circled the problems she got wrong. Tomorrow I can talk about it with Lian."

Roy slapped him lightly on the arm. "Thanks, Tim. At least someone's pulling their weight."

"I'll clean up," Dick offers sheepishly.

Roy pats his shoulder. "Alrighty, Mr. official dish duty now. Lian'll be on the moon when she hears about this."

Dick grins, "Anything for Lian."

Tim turns, placing the papers into Lian's sticker laden folder. He scans over a few pages before he seems satisfied and then leaves the folder on the side of the table. With an even expression, he turns to Dick and Roy, getting their attention.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, Dick. Night, Roy."

He leaves, and Dick nods, watching him go, and then says, "We're pretty much done here too. I'll go clean up now." He smiles and he knows it meets his eyes as he says, "Night, Roy. Sleep well."

Roy's expression softens minutely as he squeezes Dick's shoulder. "You too, Dick," he says, soft, "and if you're gonna do any hanky panky, sock on the door knob alway-"

"Roy."

"Hey, hey, chill, I'm giving you my blessing."

Dick rolls his eyes as Roy makes his exit. 

Alone for the first time that day, Dick sits there for a few more moments, stretching out along the table before he gets himself up to clean up. When he finishes though, he's not ready to go to sleep yet. He is out in the country and he hasn't even really been outside except for climbing the trees out in the afternoon with Lian as Roy went over edible moss and leaves. He should take the chance to get some fresh air. To figure how he's going to say this.

Dick goes back out to let loose some of his nerves, breathinf in the cooler air, but it's still warm, muggy, room temperature, and he slides his hands into his pockets as he walks around the house, inspecting it. He doesn't think it's overboard, but maybe he shouldn't be indulging what Roy had called an obsession, a bad coping mechanism, but it's a useful one. As much as paranoia can be a bother, it comes in handy. It's a pyschosis Dick doesn't mind so long as it doesn't get too out of hand. He squats down to look at the drain pipe when there's a rustle of grass behind him.

Dick freezes and then, analyzes, recognizes the gait. The fact that the owner of the footsteps isn't even trying to be quiet.

Tim silently settles himself beside Dick, mirroring his positioning. His hair is still wet from his shower, droplets trailing down the curve of his neck. He's in a thin white T-shirt and boxers.

"Not tired?" Tim asks.

"I'm not the one who had to do math," Dick jokes.

"Right," Tim says dryly, "I wonder why it was me doing it actually. You can do fourth grade math too."

"You're smarter than me," Dick says quietly, running his fingers along the wood paneling of the house.

Tim holds his silence before replying, "Maybe in some ways. But not...not really."

Dick turns to raise his eyebrows at Tim. "What does that mean?" Tim's face is pale in the moonlight, most of it in the shadow Dick makes over him. Dick wonders how he'd gotten so lucky.

Tim quirks his lips in something reminiscent of a smile. "That I've still got a long ways to go to get where you are."

Dick reaches out, his fingertips just brushing the ends of Tim's hair, and pauses when Tim scowls.

"C'mon, Dick," Tim says. 

“You don't think you're already where I am?”

Tim seems almost taken aback for a moment before he says, almost awkwardly, “Well, I mean I know you still have a lot more experience than me. I've still got a lot to learn. I always will.” He shrugs. “We're equals, but you've still experienced a lot more than me. I can't ignore that.”

Dick thinks that helps. It helps a lot especially when he knows Tim lets himself relax more around Dick. Tim knows he doesn't have to take the lead or take full responsibility when Dick is around because Dick has had a lot more experience than him. He knows what kind of a relief that is even if Tim still takes being fair and reasonable seriously whoever he's with.

“Can I ask about before?” Dick starts. “About everything when I...when I decided Damian should be Robin?”

Tim's open expression shutters and Dick has to reassure himself, tell himself to be patient when it comes to this. That he's always waited for Tim and Tim has never disappointed Dick really when he's given him time and space to choose. Tim's always come back to him.

“You didn’t choose me,” Tim says after a sigh, rubbing his face tiredly. “You didn’t believe me. And you didn’t trust me.” He takes in a breath before Dick can say anything else. "And that's okay. it's not like I made it easy for you either. I didn't want your help. I wanted you to do what I wanted. And even over all of that, I know what Bruce means to you - because he means just as much to me - that it was his son, that you couldn't trust yourself to let yourself believe he wasn't dead, and that he asked you to lie to protect our identities. If it was my dad." Tim has to digs his nails into his palm. Dick wants to gently loosen his fingers and soothe the angry marks. "If it was my dad. I wouldn't have been able to handle it much better. Maybe the faking dying part, I would've done better- but..." He shrugs his shoulders. "You're a lot of what's good in my life. You've always represented that to me. It'd just be nice if that wasn't something I had to lose too."

Dick folds his arms over his chest as he looks down at the ground. He grips his arm as he says, "How about I make you a promise?"

He can see Tim look up at him through his peripheral view. 

"I won't lie to you again. It's a promise, a rule, I'll live by. If you see me slacking, just remind me of it and I promise I'll follow through."

"Dick, you don't need to go that far-"

"But I'd like to. I'd like to deserve the trust you put in me." Dick offers a little smile. "Okay?"

Tim meets his eyes, pale blue and unnerving in the intelligence and maturity in them. He nods, ducks his head with a little pleased quirk to his lips. 

"Okay."

Dick tries to carefully measure his words that he says next. "And I wanted to say, I'm sorry. I don't think I can do this. I-"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roy knows all about what going on in Dick's life because Jason told him about it :3


	5. Chapter 5

“-you're sorry?” Tim says with disbelief in his tone.

He moves forward, and Dick only stays standing where he is, silent now, but Tim doesn't back down.

This is something he can't give up, that he doesn't have to give up on because it's not like the rest of life's inevitabilities; it's not death. He can prove to Dick that they'd be good together. Tim has a stretching list of reasons why they would work and beyond that, he knows it. He knows it in his bones the way he knows no one is infallible and that Bruce wasn't dead, that Dick Grayson was Robin and Bruce Wayne was Batman that Dick is running away.

"Yeah," Dick says, a hushed quality to his demeanor. Gentle. Like he's herding in an abused stray. "I'm sorry, Tim."

Tim studies his expression as he tries to find the words to explain the same emotions he'd felt when he'd learned Dick was alive after all. Desperate, maybe.

Yeah. There's something desperate clawing at the hollows of Tim's chest, and even though it shouldn't be anywhere as devastating as having his dad or Kon or Steph or Bruce die, it is. It's Tim's future crumbling before his eyes. It's the world he'd been working for, aiming towards, a dream that was enough to keep him afloat. One he's entertained for years with no real backing, and now, he'd been so close. 

He's angry too, but Tim thinks that this time, it isn't as justified even as his mind replays the way Dick had toyed with the pocky in his lips and had sleepily lifted his blanket, welcoming Tim in.

"You have to at least tell me why, Dick," Tim says. 

"I just don't think it'd be good," Dick says, expression even with just a hint of pain. Tim knows how good of an actor Dick can be, and he wishes that at least now, he could know that it was sincere regret and not pity driving him to show that hint to comfort Tim. 

"You don't," Tim agrees, "but I still need you to tell me why."

"You have to accept my decision then."

"Yeah," Tim stares him down with every intention not to keep the promise. "so long as you keep your promise."

Dick's eyes seem to light at Tim's words, whether with irritation or some other obscure emotion, Tim doesn't know. There's life in his eyes. One Tim wants so badly to press and hold between his hands, to tear into to understand and then piece back together just to know he can.

"Yeah, Tim," Dick replies, tone turning joking, "my short term memory is doing just fine." It falls flat between them.

Tim just looks at him and waits, mind going a mile minute.

Tim likes to think he's an intelligent person. He is quicker, more capable, and detail-oriented than most people are due to his training, but if he's only better than comparison to other people, maybe his intelligence is nothing at all in the face of all the problems that naturally arise in the world. So what does it say when all he holds himself together with is rationalizations and nothing more. He recalls once telling Dick something along the lines of, 'it couldn't be helped, it's not your fault', and Dick replying that he knew that there wasn't anything he could've done, but that didn't make a single thing better. He doesn't have the power to make it right, only to recognize it, and it means he gets the privilege of feeling helpless more often than not.

All he's learned from those moments is that Tim doesn't know how to quit _trying_ to make it right.

Because they make sense together to him. Tim will never be able to give up on Dick the way Barbara had to to protect herself. He protects himself by holding onto the man. Tim understands Dick's position and struggles the way Starfire hadn't. He follows the no kill code as his own, the way Helena didn't. He's already involved in the caped community and can protect himself, the way Clancy couldn't. 

He knows Dick wants him, has seen it come up to the surface the past few days more and more, the repressed longing in the planes of Dick's face. Tim wants to touch him, wants to know what it'd be like to kiss him, his lips soft and giving under him. He wants to know what it's like to move in tandem with him in something more than sweaty, teasing sparring.

Right now, Tim can come up with a few reasons why Dick had come to this conclusion.

One: Dick is scared of the change in their relationship. 

Two: Dick sees Tim as his little brother still.

Three: Dick has had a history of repressing his wants for duty that at this point, it's undeniably second nature.

Fourth, and least likely: Dick also has an interest in someone else - Roy - and he feels uncomfortable committing to Tim yet. It's not likely with the way Dick's acted when they've interacted, but Tim's brain is traitorous and he thinks of all the ways Roy has seen Dick's wounds bare and Tim is still barely scratching the surface.

"I-"

Talking, _reason_ , has never worked with Dick before, and that makes sense. Reason doesn't work on people who're caught up in emotions. What doesn't make sense is Tim using the same tactic over and over again, expecting it to work. So.

Tim grabs Dick's shirt, yanking him forward until he has his lips pressed against Dick's, tugging softly on his lower lip until Dick's lips part and his breath is hot and damp as he slides his tongue in. Dick stutters under his touch, and it's a long moment, the wet heat too tantalizing, before Tim can slowly pull with back an exhale. He runs his eyes over Dick's face, eyes likely too wild, as his stomach churns, lips and face burning. He doesn't stop himself from licking his lips.

Dick's eyes are wide with blatant surprise, words lost on his red lips.

They're on the damp grass now, Dick on his ass, legs sprawled out, and Tim on his knees, a pebble digging into into shin.

"I lied." Tim squeezes Dick's shoulder. "I don't have any intention of giving up on you so easily." He doesn't know what else to say, but Tim guess this is a suitable ultimatum to get his point across.

"Tim," Dick says, pained.

"I know you trust me to do my job right, the way Bruce never really could let himself after Jason, so trust me to handle this right too."

Dick rubs his face, quiet, and subtly, unconsciously, almost wipes his lips, drawing Tim's eyes there.

"I shouldn't have done that without your okay," Tim says quietly in the prolonged silence. "Sorry."

"I can't hurt you," Dick finally says, voice just a little broken, not acknowledging Tim's last words. 

"You already have," Tim replies, tone more certain than he is. "The only question is what we're going to do about it now."

Dick tilts his head at Tim, shoulders sinking, and Tim has the urge to trace his fingers over the stretched tendon of Dick's neck.

"What we're going to do about it now," Dick muses. There's almost a smile on his face, but his eyes are sad under the amusement. His expression turns serious in the next second as he switches topics. "Don't do it again without my okay, then."

Tim nods, and waits, feeling like a soldier keeping in line. All's fair in love and war, Tim thinks with some amusement, but he knows that isn't true. The war they've been fighting has rules more important than any other he's known.

Dick sighs and runs fingers through his hair. "You're right. So, I am sorry. Because I don't think I can do this, but I want to anyway. This here... I actually have the choice to not get involved. Every other single situation, I have to act to save someone, but here... here, things can stay good even if I don't." He searches Tim's eyes. 

"Dick," Tim says, pursing his lips. He sits down beside him. "We're going to be okay, even if you don't want this." He folds his hands together, tangling his fingers. He gives Dick an out only because he couldn't forgive himself if he didn't, but really, he doesn't want to. He's tempted to just circle in on Dick on all sides, executing every trick he knows will work on the man, until he's closed in on him and has him trapped. He could. He knows he could.  "Even if I want this badly, this doesn't really have to change anything."

"It does," Dick says. "It changes a lot of things." He turns, looking into the distance. "But I guess things keep on changing anyway lately. It's good. It's a good thing."

"Not all of it's a good thing, Dick," Tim says quietly, not trying to contradict him. "There are some things that shouldn't have to happen."

As the words pass Tim's lips, he knows where this is going - it'd been inevitable, like Tim had said in the car -, and the thought of taking it all away from Dick flickers through his mind for a moment. They had all fought for the cowl, and Tim had been a serious contender if only because he'd felt like there wasn't another choice with Jason caught up in his fury, Damian a child, and Dick... grudging and depressed. He'd done what he had to do then, and he'll do what he has... he's going to do what he wants to do now.

Because Dick shouldn't have to lose himself to Bruce. And Tim knows that it's hard to hate your parents. He'd gone through the phases and he'd only ever hated them as much as he'd loved them and wanted their attention. He knows how much Cass and Stephanie struggle with hating their dads, and their dads deserved a lot less than they'd been given.

He knows what it's like to have to contain the swirling emotions, thick in your stomach, that are mixed altogether of guilt and genuine affection and fear. To have to control it and suffer through it, swinging back and forth between what hurts less and what they want and what you could do to make them love you, to recognize that you're good. He doesn't want Dick to live with it the rest of his life.

Tim could offer to take it on now. He's grown.

He knows Dick wouldn't accept though.

"They're going to happen anyway," Dick says. He looks like he's going to say something else, but Tim chooses to break in first.

"You don't have to be Batman."

"...I was a good one though, wasn't I?" Dick says. He scrubs his face. "We're off topic. This-"

"We're on topic," Tim says with a sharper tone than he'd intended.

Dick snaps his head over to look at him, and he looks resigned. "Okay, fine, we're gonna do this now?"

"Yeah," Tim says. "We are."

"Jean-Paul Valley is an option," Dick says carefully. "but I don't think he's the most reasonable option in this situation."

"Reasonable won't make you feel any better."

"I'm not doing this to make me feel better. I'm doing this to-"

"You're doing this because you think you owe Bruce something or because you want him to be proud of you. You're doing this to make yourself feel better."

"And if I am?" Dick says, voice rising and cutting into their surroundings.

"Then admit it," Tim says.

Dick stares at him, eyes red rimmed, expression cold, and Tim hates it when Dick looks at him like this. The rest of him feels a thrill at the hair rising at the back of his neck. Dick is mesmerizing, in every state, but there's something about his fury that draws Tim in and makes him believe. They'd said Robin was terrifying, creepy. That child in colorful clothes with a smile on his face as he broke grown men, and all Tim had ever felt was safe when he'd seen him.

"I have to intervene when it comes to him," Dick finally says. "He's the most amazing man I've ever met, and he's still so intrinsically flawed. We just keep on finding new people, and it'll never cease to amaze me that they are as dedicated to the insane thing we do as they are, but this legacy that Bruce inadvertently builds, he doesn't take responsibility for it. Bruce has almost always relied on me to be there in his absence and even when he isn't, I know all the good I could do him. I'm good at connecting others in a way he doesn't have the patience for. I wouldn't want it any other way, but it doesn't feel like I have any freedom anymore. Like Nightwing wasn't my own, but just a stepping stone for me to be what Bruce needs me to be, especially when everyone was- when I did a good job with the position. When some days it had even felt _good_ being Batman."

"It doesn't mean you have to be."

Dick stiffens his shoulders, looking away, barely hiding the irritation in his tone. "I know. I don't _have to_ be, but it didn't change the fact that it's the option that makes the most sense. It's the one Bruce would choose and not because of his bad traits but exactly because of the ones I admire most in him." He shoves his bangs back, fingers twitching, looking miserable and angry. "In Spyral..." He trails off.

"-you could have that freedom without having to decide," Tim finishes. Without having to refuse being what Batman needed him to be, enjoying his life in a cage.

"It was irresponsible of me, I know."

"...Dick..." Tim says, finding his words.

Dick looks up.

"I don't know if I want the Batman name or legacy. I started this because of you and continued it because it was right, because even my dad told me that I was making the right choice. But I do know and you know too, that either way, you're going to force yourself to do this for Bruce like you always have, and I know that I'm here because of you. I could help you do this, Dick."

It's like it hadn't occurred to Dick.

"I could be your partner," Tim says, meaning every version of the word. Dick hadn't chosen him to be his Robin, and Tim still thinks the part of him that worshipped the title and the boys who had worn the colors will always be devastated, but Robin and Batman have never been equals. Equal in worth, both necessary parts of the whole, but Batman is the teacher, the protector, and Robin was the child, the one still learning. Robin helped Batman protect himself just by their presence. It was one-sided and anything not one-sided was unintentional, the gift that youth and recklessness and idiocy gave.

Dick looks a little like he'd tried for a step on the stairs that wasn't there. The surprise eventually fades for interest, something light in his eyes. Hope.

"You could," Dick says in reply.

“I could,” Tim echoes, letting the 'if you let me' stay unspoken.

Dick stares at him assessing before he asks quietly, “Is that an offer you're serious about?”

Like it was a burden to get to work with Dick.

“Yeah, of course,” Tim says. 

Dick looks up at the sky, seeming to expand above them, dizzyingly. Tim thinks that that's the difference between the Earth and the sky. You can only see so much of the Earth from where you're standing, and it's so little, so small, and too close, but the sky above them is endless and stretching endlessly. One choice to choose versus the endless options seemingly just within arm's reach.

He finally turns back to look at Tim, face closed off.

"Dick," Tim says, and Dick's mask cracked.

"I'm pretty sure you were using the insult this time," Dick grins.

"I was," Tim admits.

Dick nods and then asks, "Got a plan?"

About what? Tim thinks about asking. About us. About our future? About being Batman and... Batman? About what to do if my heart gets broken by Dick Grayson?

Instead, he quirks his lips. "When don't I?" He reaches into his pocket for Dick's keys - his keys, that Dick had given him - and dangles them between their faces. 

"I think it'd be good if we went for a drive."

Dick raises his eyebrows, but nods and gets up from his seat in the damp grass without preamble. He pats off his pants and shirt, and Tim stands up with him. Dick stands there, and Tim knows that as usual, Dick is waiting on him to lead the way. And like always, Tim is anxious to please, and has absolutely no intention of disappointing.

 

= = = =

Tim eases up on the gas pedal when Dick says, "Y'know I've tried to pull this with Bruce before. Got it from a 'How to come out to your parent' book."

Tim turns to Dick. "You came out to Bruce?"

Dick does a half choke-half snort. "I tried to. It didn't take. He got a call. I ended up just letting him catch me and Wally doing a friendly make-out session in the Batcave."

He considers the image and then sets it aside for another day before he says anything dumb. "Tried to pull this?"

Dick tilts his head towards Tim. "Car ride. It's easier to have a conversation without eye contact, considering we're both emotionally stunted men, and there's the benefit of neither of us being able to escape unless we want to jump out of a car moving..." He glances at the speedometer, "at eighty miles an hour into a dark forest."

"That's not even a challenge," Tim jokes.

Dick hums, seemingly lost in his thoughts now. They both fall silent, left to only what's in their heads and the hum of the wind gliding around and over the car, the two of them safe and warm in the insulation of the vehicle. It makes Tim want to open the windows and he does.

"Y'know," Tim says conversationally, as the wind blows their hair back noisily.

"What?" Dick says.

He can't hear a single thing now. Tim closes the windows, the humming of the car and the wind turning to white noise.

"Y'know," Tim says again, "Lian wants to be a superhero. Like her dad. Like us."

"I figured," Dick says staring out at the stretching road. "With all the time she'd spent around them...I mean it's in her blood too."

Tim glances over at Dick. "You wouldn't try to turn her away from it?"

Dick purses his lips, thinking about it. "It'd be hypocritical to do it. I mean I know what it's like to have this want for it. It's addicting. It's not healthy really, but it's a purpose that you can't ever really replace." He turns to Tim. "She tell you that today?"

"Yeah. We were playing truth or dare."

"Yeah?" Dick's tone is bordering mischievous. "What'd she ask you?"

"Whether I want to marry you. If I ever thought about not being a superhero anymore. Dared me to tell her a dirty secret and later to kiss you right then and there."

"...what'd you tell her?"

"Yes. No, not sincerely, but I do think about it. I sort of had a crush on Bruce for a couple months. And well, I'm guessing you know how that last one turned out."

"What was your punishment?" Dick asks, skirting around Tim's awkward last comment.

"To come back and visit with a stuffed animal." Tim pauses, recalling the strange sort of oldness in Lian's eyes when she'd told him that was her punishment. "I'm probably gonna come back sometimes in the winter. I know how to make a kickass snowfort and I told Lian I'd show her how. Pretty great at snowboarding too - comes from all the skateboarding."

Dick pauses and then finally says, "...you had a crush on Bruce?" He leans in and Tim raises his eyebrows at him.

"C'mon, you can't just leave me hanging here." It's almost like they're back as Nightwing and Robin dicking around while on a mission. There's that same gleeful, surprised look on Dick's face.

"I sure can."

Dick grins, teasing, jabbing at Tim's side. "C'mon, I know you want to spill the beans. Everyone loves talking about themselves."

Tim rolls his eyes.

"Pretty please?"

"Truth or dare?" Tim tries.

Dick catches on and narrows his eyes. "Fine. Truth."

"When was the first time you thought you could be in love with me?" Tim asks, his voice unintentionally turning soft at the end. 

"...I was watching television at Spyral and there was a news reporter talking about you guys with a grainy video from a phone showing you, Bruce, and Damian leaping over a gap between buildings."

Tim turns to glance at Dick, mouth slightly agape. "That's what made you fall in love with me?"

"No," Dick says. "That's not what you asked."

"...what about that made you think you could fall in love with me then?"

"It made me realize that we'd never really patched things up, that I'd missed you, and you did that flip I taught you. You were laughing," Dick almost muses. "That's rarer these days."

"IOU," Tim states. "Truth. What made you fall in love with me then?"

Dick shoots him an amused glance. "Probably when I came back from Spyral and you and Jason were on the rooftop and I thought for sure I was going to lose my front teeth from the way you were looking at me." He chuckles, nearly gleeful for some weird reason at the memory.

It takes a moment for Tim to process that thought, but Dick doesn't even give him it as he shoots back, "Truth or dare."

"Truth," Tim says. 

"I'll cut you some slack on this adolescent crush on Bruce later, but trust me, I'm not forgetting it anytime soon." Dick pauses, his tone authoritative and even his silence carrying the same quality. "Tell me how you're coping."

Tim turns to Dick. "You want me to talk about it?"

"Yeah. You usually won't. It's like you don't even want to think about it."

Tim sighs, and shifts his grip on the wheel, palms feeling sweaty now.

"I don't think about it because there's no reason for me to think about it, Dick. I could sit there and stare at a blank wall for days just thinking about all the people I lost and how they didn't come back or didn't come back the same and what I should do about that." Tim's voice might be breaking the longer he talks. He forces it out, trying not to let irritation seep out. "I could think about how ever since I became a hero, while I gained a family, almost every one of them has died. The only exceptions have been Barbara, Alfred, Cissie, and Cassie. Four out of give or take fifty people I love. Do you get why I don't usually try to talk about it?"

He doesn't wait for Dick's response. "There are things I want to do and things I want to become and I can't do that just sitting there thinking about all my fears." He looks at the wheel, and even if his hands are bare, he can see his green Robin gloves, flared out at the wrist. "As heroes, we put our fears aside and we think about how to address the problem and that usually starts with just getting up and doing it. I don't talk about it because there isn't that much to talk about. If I'm going to say anything, Dick, then don't die. Don't fake die, don't die actually, not before me."

Tim presses his forehead against the wheel for just a split second. "I'm tired of not being enough to save the people I care about."

Dick is silent, and Tim takes the chance to say, softly, looking at the Wayne insignia on the horn of the wheel. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"What're you mad at me for?"

"Why would I ever be mad at you, Tim? Honestly, I always end up being the wrong one."

Tim glances over at him. “Stop avoiding it, Dick.”

Dick lets out a breath, a little laugh, “Could say the same to you, Tim.”

"It's my turn. Keep your promise."

Dick takes a breath in, his expression not particularly happy. “The expectations of you have of me. The trust. You let me hurt you and you didn’t say a thing, Tim. I know I should try to notice, but if you’re upset you should say something instead of lying to my face. You didn’t think I’d come save you, and you didn’t trust me either about Damian. I wasn’t taking anything from you, I told you that you’d outgrown Robin and that was why and maybe I’d pushed you too hard, but no one made you leave. You knew I couldn’t spend all my time chasing after you, and you knew I couldn’t believe you with the position I was in. You pushed me away and then you lied about being fine and continued to lie about it. You... you gave me a strange look the other night when I said I trusted you. And I do. I just don't think you trust me to take care of you. And maybe I wouldn't deserve that trust, but if you can't be honest and forward about what it is you need, then it's hard as hell to help you.”

Tim squeezes the wheel.

Dick takes a breath in.

"I took Robin away from you because I never thought you needed it. I've always - Bruce and Barbara too - seen something great in you, Tim. You never needed us, and it frustrated me when you let all of this hold you back.

Dick pauses. "You had to remind of my promise an hour later." He runs his fingers through his hair. "Your turn again then."

Tim is silent before he takes the chance. "Truth or dare?"

He knows what Dick is going to choose before he does and he knows what the both of them will keep on choosing the rest of the night.  

"What're you worried about between us?"

"I'm... I'm scared," Dick says.

"Of what?" Tim ishes for a moment he wasn't drive so he could take in Dick's expression.

"I'm just scared," Dick admits. "I'm scared that after you'll stop looking at me the way you do now. I've always... There's always been something rocky with me and whoever it is whether romantic or platonic but when it came to us... You've always come back." He smiles wryly, a hint of self-deprecation in there. "It's pretty reaffirming to spend time with you. Helps my ego."

"It's really that important to you what I think of you?"

"It always has been,” Dick points out. "You didn’t know?”

"I mean. I guess, but I figured it was just the general regard you felt for anyone in our community.”

Dick's smile is faint, but warm, even through the mirror. "It's not."

"Huh," Tim says. Maybe he should've done something like this with his dad. Would've trapped the man there, let him be half distracted while he was driving so Tim wouldn't have been the full focus of his displeasure, and if it was Tim being dropped off at school, Tim would've automatically had an escape and his dad, several hours to think by himself. He could've tried being more honest even if he hadn't thought Jack Drake would've listened.

"Not gonna ask another one?" Dick pushes.

"Nah. Let's stop," Tim says quietly. 

He looks down the dark road, lit only by the headlights of their car. He knows what it feels like to kiss Dick, a stolen one, a forced one. It'd been soft and warm, and Tim hadn't been kissed back.

"Hey, Dick?" Tim says. 

"Yeah?"

"What was it like? Being in Spyral. Knowing everyone thought you were dead. Watching us all work from the sidelines?"

"It was lonely. It felt like a cold war just brewing in my brain, that constant tension even when there's no threat. I didn't have any time to get over Damian sacrificing himself for me. And then suddenly, I had all the time in the world to think about how not only had I let a ten year old die in my place, but that I'd put everyone I loved in danger, and not just danger, I risked taking away something from them that was essential to them, their privacy, their passion, their purpose. I was alone there, and so I just focused on work. I wasn't a leader there, and no one was interested in me really. I just stayed on the sidelines, gathering as much information as I could. It was...it felt insubstantial." Dick turns to Tim, smiling. "I'm glad I'm home now."

"Me too." Tim can't help asking, "Planning on staying?"

"Well, y'know," Dick jokes, "there's no place like home."

"There isn't," Tim says, and he holds his hand out again, and Dick doesn't hesitate before he takes Tim's hand. He squeezes, and Tim glances over, not knowing what all this means, as Dick asks, "So where're we going?"

Tim doesn't let his cheeks color as he says, "We weren't supposed to go anywhere. I just wanted to drive."

Dick tilts his head in a small nod. "Gotcha. I know the feeling."

Tim nods back before he glances back through the mirror, starting a u-turn. The car curves around smoothly, and then they're going back again. To the little world they'd built far away from Gotham.

He doesn't mean to minimize the conversation they'd just had, and it had left Tim feeling better than before, but he still doesn't know Dick's answer. If Tim had managed to change his mind. He glances at Dick out of the corner of his eye. and it matters still, but it matters just a little less with the way Dick's profile looks, highlighted by the moonlight as he looks out the window, his other arm leading back to their clasped hands, leading back to Tim.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Tim parks the car, feeling something more pass his lips as he breathes out  and unlocks the doors, stepping out into the cool night air. His cheeks feel oddly warm even as he closes the door, Dick doing the same on the opposite side. 

"I'm pretty tired now," Dick says, stretching his arms up. "Guess car rides really do work."

Tim hums in assent as he locks the door and trudges towards the front door steps, waiting for Dick to follow along with him. Dick does, just a hairsbreadth away as Tim opens the unlocked door to the Harper's house - it's weird as hell that they leave the door unlocked even if there's no one around for miles - and steps into the dim light, shadows over Dick's form.

Dick places a hand on Tim's shoulder, stopping him as he goes towards his room.

He tilts his head, pointing in the direction of Dick's room when Tim turns his head. 

And Tim has never been able to resist him.

 

===

He backs Tim back into the bed and then just - pushes. And Tim falls.

He bounces on the bed once, looking up at Dick who's still just standing there and in the next second, he's on top of Tim's bracketing him with his forearms and thighs, he slides his fingers through Tim's hair, mussing it before he parts his lips, looking lethal and wild in the moonlight, and captures Tim's lips with his own.

His breath is hot and his hand tilts Tim's chin up for easier access as he licks in with ease. Tim groans and holds onto Dick's shirt, clinging on even when Dick finally pulls away, lips just that hint of red. 

His blue eyes have a bright sheen to them and he laughs. And then buries his face into the spot of the bed right next to Tim's head.

"I like you, Timbo,' Dick says, muffled next to Tim's ear. 

Some part of TIm wants to ask, "Do you really?" and "Are you going to stay? Can I keep you?" like Dick is some pet for him to cling to keep, to keep away from the outside to protect - the only way to protect Tim from himself to know that the man he loves is safe. 

He leans his cheek into Dick's neck, pressing in, feeling his cheek distort and meld. He's not sure what brought about this change in Dick's mind, but Tim's not ready to ask yet. He'll ask one day, maybe tomorrow or the day after, but for now, he just wants to believe that it was him who convinced Dick that everything was okay.

"Like like like?" Tim asks.

Dick's laugh is half a gasp. He lifts his head just slightly high enough to glance at Tim's eyes. "Like like-like."

"I love you, Dick," Tim says before Dick can look away.

Dick doesn't look away at all as he leans down again to press his lips slowly against Tim, breath brushing against his lips and then diverging for the slightest breeze against Tim's warm cheeks. Tim wants to breathe him in, feel his lips and skin meld against Dick's. Wants to get to undress him, feel the rough denim of his jean and hear the clink of his belt, slide his hand up his thin cotton shirt and palm his toned stomach. Wants to see the way Dick's muscles flex in the moonlight when he peels off his shirt, and wants to see that glint of Tim's favorite smile on his face.

"I know," Dick breathes, pressing his lips softly against the corner of Tim's eye. "I love you too."

"What changed?" Tim asks. He's stupid that way.

Dick doesn't seem to agree by his thoughtful expression and the relief inside Tim at Dick's understanding is as warm as always. 

Tim presses his fingers into Dick's lower back as he waits for his response, hoping he could just burrow his hands inside Dick to keep his fingers warm - he's always been a little cold blooded, unable to stand the winters in Gotham. Dick presses back in return, pressing Tim into the mattress, and holds on tight enough to hurt.

"You have a bad habit of being right," Dick says. His smile is wry. "And are good at convincing me of it."

He looks back down at Tim, lips slightly parted. Wry, again, still. "I didn't want that drive to end. I'm not sure I would've moved from that seat in the car if you hadn't first, knowing- knowing that if I did, that I would've had to face the words I'd told you just an hour ago. That I'd have to lose this. Lose the chance to love you and show it too."

Tim blinks up at him.

"Good," is all he says.

 

===

 

Dick runs his fingers through Tim’s hair lazily and it feel good. It’s hypnotizing, sending ghostly chills down his spin and crawling over his skin, but it feels good. He’s lying on Dick’s chest, feeling him breathe in and out, the skin where they meet, separated only by two thin shirts, is too warm. Tim’s even sweating slightly. Tim runs his fingers over Dick’s bicep, the sun warmed skin still soft, especially at Dick’s underarm. There are less scars there too. 

He's been too hyped up to sleep as tired as he is. It'd only been one night and Tim is overspoiled by having gotten to sleep more than eight hours. 

His lips still ache a little and he's half hard in his boxers, trying to make it Dick's problem, pressed up against Dick's thigh, but Dick had said simply that he wanted to go slow. 

Tim switches to tugging at the edge of Dick’s sleeve.

“Do you still want those kinds of things?” Tim asks, tilting his head up and putting his chin on Dick’s chest.

“Hmm?” Dick says, turning from the window to look down at Tim. The tilt of his head gives him a little bit of a double chin that he only exaggerates when he notices Tim’s stare; Tim plucks at that little bit of fat until Dick grins and shoves at Tim’s hand.

“What kind of things?”

“Marriage. Kids. A white picket fence.”

Dick tilts his head back, thinking even as his hands continue rubbing Tim’s side. He stills for a moment, and Tim is only comforted by the fact that he can feel Dick breathing. He's as good at being still as he is at being fluid in constant movement, ironically.

“I don’t know anymore.”

He glances back down at Tim.

“What makes you not know?” Tim asks.

“I thought I did. After I left the circus, I did. Before that, I was pretty sure I’d never leave. After, growing up with Bruce, I did like the way those small yellow houses on T.V. looked with the white picket fences and flower beds. I wasn’t sure I could leave Gotham. The suburban area is not exactly the right place for prancing around in a costume, but after I met Kori, Babs,I thought that that would be how my life would end up. Pictured more of a white picket balcony bars and potted plants situation there though. ” Dick chews on his lip. “I mean I freaked out and tried to marry them because I was focused on that...on being normal, on having stability in terms of people, but that obviously didn’t pan out.”

“What do you think about wanting now?”

“Why the third degree?” Dick asks, raising his head a little. “What about you? What do and did you want?” He grins and Tim wants to kiss him so badly. Wants to kiss him senseless until his lips are bruised and glistening. Wants to see Dick shiver as he trails his fingers along his skin.

But a little part of him is still scared.

He still rubs Dick’’s chest to feel the heartbeat against his hand, making his skin tingle.

“I couldn’t picture being married for the longest time,” Tim says. “The first time I could, it was with Steph. I could picture us being stupid while making dinner and being stupid while watching TV and snacking. Then with Tam, I could actually picture having kids. It sort of flickered in and out. Some days I could picture it, some days I couldn’t-”

“Wait,” Dick frowns, “what do you mean?”

“Like some days it seemed possible, like I could actually do that. Some days it didn’t.”

“Could do what?” Dick pushes Tim’s hair back a little and kisses him on his temple while Tim plays with Dick’s collar.

“Live. Proud of who I was. Stand tall just as Tim Drake instead of only as Red Robin or Robin.” Tim figures it’s better not to say ‘be alive.’

Dick makes a sound at that and Tim looks up, raising an eyebrow.

"You aren't?"

Tim shrugs. "I'm a lot like Bruce too. Red Robin is more my life than Tim Drake. Tim Drake is a mask that I keep up only so I can continue my nightly activities, and I'm okay with that, Dick. Because Red Robin is how I'm free now. It's how I make a difference directly."

"I felt that way for a long time," Dick says, unblinking.

"When'd it stop?"

"When I left Gotham and Bruce and even the Titans. Everything I did from then on wasn't related to any preconceived ideas of who I was. No one saw Nightwing or Bruce Wayne's ward in me. I was nobody, and it gave me room to become somebody."

"You suggesting I get away for a while?" Tim asks.

 

“No, I'd miss you too much. I think for the most part, you already know who you are. I think Red Robin is a mask for you too and both that and Tim Drake are a means to an end for you."

"What makes you think that?"

"Because you've always known what you have to do and got it done. Both masks are tools you use - ones you know how to put down too. This whole weekend you've been _here_ with me, maybe more than I've been here."

It’s the way Dick so naturally, unconsciously kisses Tim on the crown of his head before he slides Tim off him to go to the bathroom. It’s nothing, and it’s everything. It’s the way he stretches his arms above his head, his bedhead, the strip of skin between his shirt and sweatpants. How he can smile so easily even when Tim knows it’s not easy at all. Dick makes it look easy, and Tim wants that kind of belief in his life. That things can be easy some days even when nothing’s easy at all.

How he makes Tim feel that movie scene feeling where everything is blurred at the edges, out of focus, sunlight too bright and making your eyes spotty. The colors a bit faded, and things slowed down, enough for you to think you can trail your fingers over the figures and smiles, soaking in the sensations that way.

It’s the way if Tim presses his face into Dick’s shoulder and he can smell the sunlight on his warm skin.

He’s been what Tim’s wanted for so long. 

Slowly, slowly, Tim wants to know him. He wants to have someone in this world who he knows and who knows him enough that things might make a little more sense.

It's strange to think that he has been here. He's been alive this whole time in the countryside in Roy's house with Dick by his side.

Tim gets why Dick is so hesitant now. Loving someone isn't an easy task, and Tim hasn't hesitated in telling Dick when he was wrong. When he _thinks_ Dick is wrong. He doesn't hesitate to tell Dick he should be on Tim's side, and Tim sees it as an expression of Dick's way of loving him. The way he would back Tim against Batman or his dad or anyone else in the world. 

Even if Tim had been right in that Bruce was alive and that Dick shouldn't have faked his death, he knows there's a problem there. 

For Dick to start a relationship with Tim, it'd be like he was trapping himself in a situation where Tim would subconsciously need Dick to be on his side to feel loved. And Dick can't be the kind person who would cave just to prove to Tim he does love him. His logic was there that Dick's love in that regard wasn't conditional, but he'd never felt it, and he wants to feel it now.

It's humiliating, Tim thinks, to look past on himself and to find how selfish he'd been. But he supposes, like he'd told Dick before, there's nothing to do but move on and improve because he doesn't want to lose Dick, as his brother or anything more.

Tim's phone vibrates in his back pocket.

He glances at the screen and then leaps out of the bed, thinking that if they drive at 80 an hour, then Tim'll be able to reach one of his safehouses where he has an extra costume and supplies. He pulls open the door, feeling it practically slam into him.

 

===

Dick splashes water onto his face, feeling his body too warm. He might be sweating a little, but this is the biggest smile he's seen on his face in a while. His expressions reveal more than he or Bruce has ever liked, but he thinks his parents had liked it. At least they had teased him for it, how he couldn't stop beaming when he finally pulled off the quadruple somersault that had brought Tim and kept the man in his life.

He grabs a towel to dry his face, the cloth rough against his face. He thinks they would've liked Tim the best out of all of Dick's family. They would've respected Bruce and Jason's characters, tried to help Damian or sympathized with him, laughed with Stephanie and found her a delight, fallen in love with Cass, trusted Duke and enjoyed teasing him. They would've loved Barbara like a daughter. But Dick knows they would've had a soft spot of Tim the same way he does. 

He's good the way Dick wants to be, and Dick doesn't have the words to describe the feeling in his chest to know that someone like Tim is here.

Dry, and feeling cleaner, Dick walks out of the bathroom just as the home phone in the hallway rings. Dick pauses, and then figures it's not something Roy would care about, as he goes to pick up the phone.

"Dick?"

"Barbara," Dick says, surprised.

"How soon can you be back in Bludhaven?"

"I can be there in a couple of hours. What'd you need?"

"I'll send you the details on your phone. Turn it back on, idiot."

"I had my reasons, Babs, but yeah, sorry, I'll turn it back on right after this."

"...don't be sorry, Dick. I can't imagine you turning it off and being off the comms for anything but a good reason."

"...thanks, Barbara."

"Anytime, Dick....and Dick?"

"Yeah?"

"Fingers crossed that it was because you were taking some time off."

Dick smiles, feeling an ache in his chest. "Yeah. Something like that. I'll be there soon."

"Good luck, Boy Wonder." There's a click. Barbara never dallies on the phone unless she's flirting, but the way she's always been so cut and straight about hanging up the phone is one of Dick's favorite quirks about her.

He puts the phone down and then turns to half jog back to his room just as he nearly loses his balance when the door is practically yanked open in front of him.

 

===

Dick and Tim round the doorway at the same time.

“I got a call and-,” they say in unison, a centimeter away from each other.

Dick and Tim blink at each other.

“I got a call,” Tim says. “Kon and the rest of the Titans need me.”

Dick’s lips slowly spread into a smile. “I...got a call. Babs said something’s up in Bludhaven...”

Tim and Dick meet each other’s eyes.

“Race you to the car,” Tim offers.

“Beat you to the car,” Dick says as he takes the two steps to his luggage, Tim cursing as he runs down the stairs to his own bedroom.

 

===

Before Tim's gone, Dick is already shoving his meager belongings into the duffel bag, pressing it all in, and then zipping it up. He has it on his shoulder when the door creaks open.

"Tim, I-" Dick says, smiling.

It's Lian, who's standing there in her pajamas. Dick suddenly remembers it's 5 in the morning.

"Hey, kiddo," Dick says, pausing in his movements. "You're up early, huh?"

"You're leaving," Lian says.

"Yeah. Someone needs our help."

"Oh," Lian says. She's holding a stuffed animal to her chest. "Good luck, Uncle Dick."

"Yeah," Dick says quietly. "Thanks, Peanut."

She bobs her head in a nod and doesn't move from the doorway. 

Dick lets out a soft breath, remniscient of a laugh as he reaches into his duffel bag and pulls out his fanny pack. He slings it over his shoulder before going over to Lian and kneeling down. He pulls it off his shoulder and holds it out to her. "It's not a stuffed animal, but it's still a present for you."

Lian stares at the gray pouch with it's Batman insignia and then looks back up at Dick. "What is it?"

"Fanny pack. But on you, it might work better as a shoulder sling bag." Dick reaches out to put it on, waiting for her permission. When she gives it, he slings it over her shoulder and then diagonally to the opposite hip, buckling it behind her back.

She looks down at it, inspecting it, fingering the rough texture of the strap. When she looks up again, Dick is smiling faintly. 

"Why'd you give it to me, Uncle Dick?"

"Because I heard you want to be a superhero."

"Yeah, but I'm gonna be an archer, not a batgirl."

"I know you will. Do you know what all the superheroes say about Batman?"

"He's scary," Lian replies instantly.

"Do you think he's scary?"

"No. He's a bat. I like bats. They use echolocation and eat bugs and fruits. They have cute ears and noses."

Dick smiles again. "That's good to hear. I gave this to you because it has a phone in it that you can call anyone in my family on. Because whatever you're going to be in the future is pretty far from now, but whatever it is, you don't have to try to become it alone. Plus," Dick says, winking, "there're some pretty cool wingdings in there, and a bonus birdarang."

"Like Robin's," Lian says.

"Yeah," Dick says. 

It's quiet in there, just the faint sound of breathing filling the silence.

Lian looks down and then says, nearly a whisper, "I'm glad Daddy quit being a hero. I didn't tell Tim because I heard Daddy say that Tim became a hero only because he wanted to save people. I thought he would have let his dad be a hero whether his dad was in danger or not."

Dick takes her hands into his. "I think Tim would've understood that, Lian. Better than most people. I want you to know that your Daddy is glad he's here with you too, Lian."

Lian snaps her head up. "But I don't hope he quits forever. I want us to be superheroes together."

Dick laughs. "I think when that day comes, he'll be the one scared for you."

She inspects the pouch, unzipping it. "He doesn't need to be scared if I'm there."

"No," Dick smiles, patting her head. "He doesn't."

 

===

 

Tim turns to a creak in the floorboards, expecting Dick, but finding Roy instead. The man leans against the doorway, arms folded against his chest.

"Hey, pipsqueak."

Tim just stares at him for that nickname.

"You are kinda scrawny," Roy laughs, taking his weight off the door frame to stand up straight. He walks over to Tim and says, "Tell Alfred thanks for the recipes. Lian'll be excited to eat something new."

"I'll be sure to tell him that," Tim replies carefully, hands stilling over the zipper of his bag.

Roy passes Tim to sit on the edge of the bed. He looks at Tim straight on and then says, "Dick's gonna need a lot of work. He's really just a prickly pear."

"I'm willing to put in the work and the patience," Tim replies.

Roy's pale green eyes flicker over Tim's face, and his voice is soft, with a hoarse edge to it when he says, "I don't think any of us can take any more of a beating."

"But we do anyway," Tim replies.

Roy holds his eyes, unnerving and then says, "Don't leave without telling Lian goodbye."

Tim swallows and nods. "I won't."

He nods back and then stands up from the bed, walking past Tim again. "If you and the Titans form up again, make sure you invite Mia back." He walks past Tim without another word, closing the door behind him.

 

===

When Tim walks outside, its to Dick holding Lian in his arms and Roy at his side, chatting amiably by the open front door on the driver's side.

Roy says something and Dick laughs in the pale light of dawn, streaking the scene with unsaturated colors bordering grey. 

Tim walks towards them, and before he puts his luggage away, he goes to Dick and just touches his back, and Dick turns to look at him.

"Ready?" Tim asks.

Dick's lips spread into a smile. "Ready." His eyes linger on Tim, and Tim is the one who turns away first if only so he can put his luggage into the open trunk.

By the time he's done, Lian and Roy are standing to the side, and Dick is in the passenger seat, fiddling with his phone. Tim can feel the weight of his car keys in his pocket as he walks over to the driver's side and slides into the seat. He doesn't close the door yet as he turns to Lian and says, "Come here?"

She walks over to him and before Tim can move, she's hugging him tightly. 

"Come back soon with my stuffed animal."

Tim grin, squeezing her back. He presses a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm planning to."

She gives one more squeeze and then backs away, staring up at him. 

"Truth or dare," she says.

"Dare," Tim replies.

"Tell the Batman that Red Arrow is a lot cooler than him and that he'll never compare."

Tim chokes on a laugh and then grins as he promises, "Yeah, okay, Lian, I'll do that. Promise."

She beams up at him before backing away to stand next to her dad again as Tim closes the door, and puts the car in reverse.

 

 ===

It's just as they're pulling out, Tim checking the rearview mirror that Dick finds the words.

“I finally realized why it had to be here. Why I wanted to bring you here.”

"Why?”

Roy and Lian wave to them, and Dick waves back.

"I wanted to know if I could cut it," Dick says quietly. "If I could settle down like Roy and Lian have. To see that they have managed it."

Dick falls silent, waiting for a sign to continue. When Tim only stays silent, watching him, Dick takes it as his cue, ignoring the lump in his chest. "Most of my relationships, of any kind, have been based on the work we do. I'll probably never give up this kind of work, but I needed to know that my interest isn't based off of that. It had to be because I thought you made me better, because I just liked you as you, plain and simple."

"Do you?"

"I can't just put aside how we know each other, of the work we've worked through together, but. I think I do," Dick says, and he can feel himself smiling a little. It felt real when he'd let the words pass his lips.

"We official then?" Tim asks.

Dick grins. "Should we get matching necklaces from Claire's?"

"I knew you shopped there."

Dick turns to smile. "What can I say. The shiny headbands and cute keychains have me hooked."

"Show me around in your home turf sometime then. I need to start thinking about Lian's birthday and Christmas gifts."

Dick grins. "She deserves a big Christmas celebration. I know I always wanted one when I was a kid."

"Did you get them?"

"Wayne charity galas. Sort of. It was enough with Bruce and Alfred either way." Dick smiles at the memory of sitting around the table in the kitchen, drinking peppermint hot chocolate, Bruce only half awake. He pauses and then adds, "we don’t have to agree about, Bruce."

Tim side-eyes him before replying, “I know. I just can’t help thinking that maybe I could- could fix it.”

“Fix me,” Dick says with a note of irritation.

“No, I-”

“Fix the years I spent waiting for the person I cared about and admired the most to show that he wanted me there?” Dick says more wryly this time. 

“Uh, yeah,” Tim says weakly.

“Can I fix your mom and dad leaving you alone for their trips then?”

“If I can fix you losing your parents”

“Then I get to fix you losing your dad and Conner and Stephanie.”

“Not Bruce?”

“Mmm no. He doesn’t get any help after the Insider BS you two pulled.”

Tim hums sheepishly.

“Deal?” Dick asks.

“Deal.”

 

====

 

They're speeding past the forest, going way above the speed limit, and Tim's half ready to outrun the police, considering it's been a while since Cassie's contacted him, when Dick says his name. Says it again before Tim replies.

"Yeah?" Tim says distractedly.

 

Dick glances at him from his peripheral view and lets his eyes flicker back to the road before he says, “Make a failsafe for me, Timbo.”

Tim turns slowly to look at Dick. “What?”

“Make a failsafe for me.”

Tim licks his lips and takes in a breath. “Okay.”

“I appreciate it. I appreciate you, Tim."

“I know you do.”

Tim wants to reach out and touch Dick. So he does. He only brushes some loose strands of Dick’s hair back before he takes his hand back again. Dick’s lips twitch and Tim takes that as a win before he scrolls the window all the way down, leaning and elbow and his cheek there. The wind blows his hair back and whistles too loudly in his ear, and he can feel a few droplets of rain pelt against his cheeks even if the sky is sunny. It's not long before he closes it again even if he liked the window open. It might rain soon, with the way the clouds, white and blinding as they are, look too heavy in the blue sky.

"We should come back here soon," Tim says, the chill of the wind still on his cheeks, rain droplets dry now. "I liked actually being able to see the sun and the sky."

"Ha," Dick snorts. "Someone needs to talk to Bruce about all the pollution in Gotham."

"Should we ask Poison Ivy to send him an informational pamphlet?"

"Only if you're the one doing the asking."

"Hell no."

The thrum of engine and the hum of the spinning wheels on the cement is pulling them away from the little place they'd stayed. Raindrops splatter over the windshield, translucent making little rainbows across the curved glass.

"You know how you can smell a storm coming?" Tim asks. "Do you think we could smell sunny days too?"

It's a ridiculous question. They both know the science of why not. They both know it doesn't work that way.

Dick smiles and says exactly what Tim hoped he'd say.

"Yeah. I definitely think so."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop! It's done!  
> Thanks for sticking with the story and/or reading it until the end. I know it's not an amazing or exciting story or anything, but it's been a long time since I've managed to finish a project this long. I appreciate people taking their time to read what I wrote. :)


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